


That's How It Starts

by WinterRose527



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And angst, F/M, Fluff, I guess/, but not really, honestly it's more sass than anything else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:54:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 58,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26124559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterRose527/pseuds/WinterRose527
Summary: OKAY OKAY I will admit that this first chapter was massively inspired by Made In Chelsea. Anyone who has ever seen that dumpster fire of a show know that it's about to get...dramatique. The rest of it is not based on it at all though.This is one of the silly spirals I went down on Sunday and I just felt like sharing. Hope you enjoy!
Relationships: HMMMMM - Relationship, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Myrcella Baratheon & Sansa Stark, Myrcella Baratheon & Shireen Baratheon, Myrcella Baratheon/Robb Stark, Sansa Stark & Robb Stark, and whooooo knows who else might take a fancy to one another, the mind reels
Comments: 285
Kudos: 177





	1. Chapter 1

“Why am I doing this?,” Myrcella asked herself as she fluffed her hair in the mirror.

“Because he’s attractive and funny and has been asking you out for the better part of a year,” Shireen answered anyway.

Myrcella rolled her eyes and turned to her cousin.

“Don’t you think it’s a sign that I said _no_ for the better part of a year?,” Myrcella wondered.

Shireen thought about it for a moment and answered, “Sure, but it’s also a sign that you said _yes_ now.”

It was hard to argue with that logic so Myrcella turned back to the mirror. Her seafoam dress lay perfectly from the tied-bow straps all the way down to the slightly flared hem. She’d dried her hair with a rounded brush to get it to fall in loose waves and had even sprung for a bit of blush and some mascara.

The only decision left to make was shoes. There were the strappy heels or the muted gold flats. She’d prefer the flats, because _obviously_ , but the heels would make her legs look better. Besides, the restaurant _was_ fancy. And it would give Trystane a little thrill.

Not that she was sure she wanted to give him a thrill just yet.

In truth, she really hadn’t decided yet. He was, as Shireen pointed out, attractive, with his dark brown curls and golden eyes, a body toned from years of swimming and sailing, and funny.

The only problem was that he _knew_ it.

In fact, he was so used to girls falling at his feet that she wasn’t sure if that wasn’t the reason he’d pursued her for the better part of a year. Trystane Martell was not used to girls saying _no_ and she wasn’t entirely convinced that he’d kept at it just to keep his track record.

That being said, there was no real reason to say no to a date with him either. It wasn’t like he was rude or anything. Sure he was a bit cocky and a tad snobby, but she rarely met a guy who wasn’t. And unlike some of them, Trystane actually had a reason to be cocky.

She grabbed the strappy heels and sat on her bed to pull them on.

“What are _you_ going to do?,” she asked her cousin who was looking through her make up bag and opening one lipstick after another.

“Tommy and I are meeting up with Gendry,” Shireen said absently as she opened an aubergine one that would be far too intense on her fair skin.

Myrcella grabbed it from her and looked in the bag and pulled out a berry one and handed it to her. Shireen opened it and smiled and then picked up a compact and started swiping it on her lips.

“Why can’t I do that?,” Myrcella asked.

Shireen knew her well enough to know she wasn’t talking about putting on lipstick, so she answered, “Because you have a date. And if it sucks you can call me and we’ll come get you.”

“Fine,” Myrcella sighed, clasping the right strap. She then looked at Shireen who was fluffing her hair and asked her pointedly, “And what are you _not_ going to do.”

“El,” Shireen rolled her eyes.

“Shy,” Myrcella pressed.

Shireen held up her right hand and said, “I, Shireen Baratheon, do solemnly swear not to text Harrold Hardyng.”

Myrcella had heard that before. A number of times. In fact, she’d heard it ever since Shireen and Harry had broken up and yet _continued_ to sleep together.

Though, in truth, Shireen had been strong for the past couple of weeks ever since it had come out that her ex Harry had slept with a different girl on the _same day_ as her.

“Alright, good,” Myrcella said and then smirked, “And who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone new tonight.”

“Ha!,” Shireen guffawed, “Not likely with destructo-bro with me.”

Myrcella giggled at the idea of Gendry smashing buildings with his fists. Though he was actually Shireen’s _cousin,_ he certainly acted like her older brother and wasn’t exactly helpful to her meeting new guys. Tommy was slightly better behaved, not really one for physical altercations, though he was known for some scathing remarks when the time called for it.

Myrcella stood up and checked her reflection once more and turned to Shireen, “So… worth the wait?”

“Oh I’d say that’s a safe bet,” Shireen agreed.

Myrcella grinned and went into her closet and pulled out a light pink shirt and tossed it at Shireen and then blew her a kiss.

Tommy must have already left because only Ser Pounce was in their living room. She scratched him behind the ears and promised not to be out too late and then left her apartment.

She grinned as she heard music blaring from 23B. She hadn’t met their new neighbors yet but it was clear they liked to party just as much as her and her fellow residents of 23A did. She heard someone cackling as she pressed the button for the elevator and felt a buzzing underneath her skin.

Though she wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about Trystane, she did love a date. And more importantly, a Saturday night filled with possibilities.

The restaurant wasn’t far from their apartment but she knew that if she walked her feet would be killing her by the time she got there, so she let her doorman hail her a taxi. She gave him the address and he sped off unceremoniously.

It was early still, not yet eight, and the city was just beginning to wake up. The earlier crowd was finishing up dinner at outdoor cafes, while other’s would just be waking up from their afternoon naps. People were walking their dogs and to the movies and home from the grocery.

The shortness of the taxi ride felt her a bit guilty about not walking, so she gave the driver a too-large tip and got out.

She took a deep breath as she got onto the sidewalk, looking at the restaurant in front of her. It was in a four story, double-wide townhouse. Each floor had something different. The cellar was a wine bar. The first floor a place for afternoon tea with a terrace that became an after hours club after 3 AM. The second floor was the main restaurant and the third floor had a series of private dining rooms.

A doorman smiled at her as she walked up the steps and opened the door for her with a flourish. She walked inside and the air smelled immediately of apricots, just as the sister restaurant in Dorne did.

She turned to her left and saw Trystane standing there waiting for her.

“Wow,” he said by way of greeting.

“I’ll answer to that,” she teased.

He grinned and crossed the remaining distance to her, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek but using the opportunity to place his hand on the small of her back.

“You look gorgeous,” he said in her ear.

“You clean up alright,” she allowed.

In truth he looked devastatingly handsome, but there was no reason he had to know that.

“We’re upstairs,” he informed her.

She allowed him to guide her up the wide spiral staircase. When she went to walk into the dining room he took her by the hand and walked her up the next flight of stairs.

She turned to look at him and he shrugged, “I thought some privacy might be nice.”

She’d only ever sat in one of the private dining rooms once for a baby shower. They were all different styles, she knew, and there was an attendant outside of each one.

Trystane lead her to _door number three_ and the man standing outside nodded his head deferentially, “Mr. Martell…”

He opened the door and she was surprised by the size of the room. Unlike the larger private dining room she’d been in, this was a little jewel.

It was, in fact, the jewel of the whole restaurant, for it had a window that allowed you to see out over the main dining room. She knew enough to be impressed that he’d managed to get it, and she couldn’t help but step to the window and smile.

It was quite a scene, a sort of divine chaos below. All around the dining room servers walked with purpose and just the right amount of flourish, as tables of 2 and 4 and 5 laughed and perused menus, enjoying the last of their pre-dinner cocktails.

The attendant had left the room and so it was just Trystane who was in there with her now.

“Mr. Martell, are you trying to seduce me?,” she teased.

He chuckled warmly, “Absolutely.” Then his eyes roamed over her, “Though perhaps I should have gotten a table in the main dining room. It’s a shame not to have the opportunity to show you off.”

“I’ve never really gone in for being shown off,” she reminded him.

“I know,” he agreed.

There was a bottle of sparkling rose, her favorite vintage, in an ice bucket and Trystane released the cork with a _pop_ before filling one of the coupes. He handed it to her and then filled his own.

“What should we drink to?,” he asked her.

“Perseverance?,” she suggested.

“Take it easy on me, won’t you?,” he joked.

“Never,” she teased back, clinking her glass against his and taking a small sip.

The room was a very pale pink and the warm bulbs in the chandelier were dimmed low. With dark wood floors and an ornate carpet, it was no surprise that it had been written up in lifestyle magazines as the most romantic room in the Seven Kingdoms.

There was fine porcelain settings and the flatware was sterling. She was so focused on the pattern of it that it took a moment to realize that there were four settings.

“Trystane,” she said, “Are we in the wrong room?”

“No, why do you ask?,” he said.

“There are four settings,” she pointed out.

It was unlike a restaurant of this caliber to make a mistake like that. 

“Oh, you see the thing is -,” he started, but just at that moment the door opened.

The attendant entered first, but there were people laughing behind him, and she knew without seeing who the deeper one belonged to.

“You idiot,” she said, though she wasn’t entirely sure if she was speaking to Trystane or herself.

The attendant stepped to the side and revealed Harry Hardyng himself.

High society’s devil in the flesh.

To be fair, high society had its share of devils but he was the only one of them who had broken her cousin’s heart.

He looked handsome in the lazy way that he always had, irreverently wearing a t shirt, and grinning in that medicated way of his.

The girl on his arm on the other hand was a bonafide beauty. Shiny auburn hair and legs for days, a ladylike pale blue chiffon dress floating around her.

The attendant took one look at her and closed the door swiftly behind him, leaving them all alone.

“What are we drinking?,” Harry asked jovially, tipping his invisible cap to her, “Princess.”

“Jackass,” she seethed.

“Myrcella,” Trystane chided softly.

“Are you _kidding_ me?,” she asked him.

“I… well…,” Trystane started, “You see… I made Harry a bet he couldn’t find a date. Boy did he prove me wrong. Hello, gorgeous, I’m Trystane.”

“Sansa,” the girl smiled warily at him, avoiding her gaze completely.

“Come on, Princess, remove the silver spoon from your ass for an evening and have a meal with me,” Harry suggested, though it sounded more like an order.

“I don’t really have much of an appetite anymore,” she told him.

“I’m so sorry,” Sansa addressed her, “I feel like I’m missing some important information.”

“That makes two of us,” Myrcella agreed, “I’m sorry for my rudeness, I’m Myrcella Baratheon.”

“Sansa Stark,” the girl smiled genuinely.

“Now that _that’s_ taken care of,” Harry cut in unwisely, “Why don’t we all have a drink and make nice.”

“Oh,” Sansa said, looking at her, “I wouldn’t bet on that.”

Myrcella grinned and went back to the table and very pointedly poured one glass of sparkling wine and walked it over to Sansa, ignoring Harry completely. She then picked hers back up and took a seat.

“So,” she asked said to Sansa, “Did he tell you that you were a bet?”

“No he left that out of the sales pitch,” Sansa informed her, “I assume you didn’t know this was a double date?”

“Not quite,” Myrcella shook her head, her gaze falling to Trystane as she took a small sip, “No.”

Trystane poured Harry a glass and they took their seats. Harry was seated directly across from her and if she was making him nervous he was working very hard not to show it.

“Look,” Trystane the peace-maker said, “Clearly this has not gotten off to a good start, but we’re all here, we might as well make the best of it.”

“Am I the only one who doesn’t understand what the problem is?,” Harry wondered.

“Yes,” Myrcella agreed, “You are the _only_ person in the universe who would not understand what the problem is.”

“Myrcella,” Trystane chided again.

“I’d save some defense for yourself if I were you,” she warned.

“Can I be clued in?,” Sansa asked, “I’m pretty sure I know whose side I’m on but…”

Myrcella smirked, liking the girl in spite of herself. She turned to Harry and said, “Would you like to do the honors?”

Harry draped his arm on the back of Sansa’s chair, clearly not sensing the absolute daggers his date was shooting at him and said casually, “I dated her cousin for a bit.”

“A bit longer than a bit, mate,” Trystane noted.

“Don’t give into the terrorists, dude,” Harry argued.

Sansa was looking between the two guys with a worried expression on her face. She couldn’t imagine what this situation must be like for her.

“They aren’t dating anymore,” she clarified first and foremost, “So don’t worry about that. But it was not quite as neat and tidy as all that so I’m sure you can imagine why it’s uncomfortable for me to be sitting here with the guy who broke my cousin’s heart and his date.”

“What wasn’t neat and tidy about it?,” Harry asked.

“Mate,” Trystane shook his head.

“No seriously, tell me,” Harry said, “Tell me what I did that was so wrong?”

“Are you sure you want me to do that?,” Myrcella asked.

“Yeah, I do because I’m so sick of this shit,” Harry sighed as though he was the wounded party, “You’d think I was the first guy to ever dump a girl.”

“You didn’t dump her,” she reminded him, “You _ghosted_ her for the better part of a month because you were too cowardly to break up with her and you wanted to force her hand.”

“I was busy,” Harry shrugged.

“With who?,” she wondered.

“Fuck you,” Harry seethed.

“Never,” she seethed back.

“Guys,” Trystane broke in helplessly.

“Keep going,” Sansa prompted.

Myrcella was really fine to leave it there. She was never going to get through to Harry. If he couldn’t see by now that what he’d done was wrong then he was never going to.

But there was something in Sansa’s voice. Myrcella glanced at her and it was there too, in her eyes. She needed to hear this.

So Myrcella protected her, the way she hadn’t been able to protect Shireen.

“Well, though you _deny_ cheating on her, the text messages tell a different story, but we’ll leave that for now,” Myrcella allowed, “But then, Shireen who was still _in love with you_ got to the point where she just couldn’t take it anymore and she breaks up with you. Which is exactly what you wanted to happen. So, what do you do with all your newfound freedom? You start calling, and texting, and DMing her in a way that you only ever had in the beginning of your relationship. You show up randomly on our nights out, all charm. To get her back? No, not in any official way. Just back into bed, right Harry? Knowing all the while that she’s still in love with you. Preying on it. Stringing her along, all the while, hooking up with other girls.”

“Ew,” Sansa said.

“Sometimes on the same day,” she hammered the final nail into the coffin.

“Oh my god,” Sansa shuddered, “That is so disgusting.”

“That’s not exactly how I remember it,” Harry argued and then turned to Sansa, “My heart was broken too, you know? I was just trying to heal.”

“Oh my god you’re completely full of shit,” Sansa seemed to realize. “I should’ve listened to him.”

“Who?,” Trystane asked curiously.

Sansa’s eyes fell to hers. Her cheeks were red, her eyes glimmering with something. Anger, maybe. Embarrassment, more likely.

“I just met him,” Sansa told her, “We’ve never…”

Myrcella waved her off, “Even if you had, you’ve done nothing wrong. I’m so sorry that this happened.”

“No,” Sansa shook her head, “This is…good. But I’m going to go and let you guys sort out whatever this is.”

“Sansa,” Harry protested.

Sansa shook her head, “You are so gross I honestly can’t even look at you,” she then turned to Trystane and shrugged, “You seem fine but you’re kind of an idiot for setting this whole thing up,” and then she looked at her, “Thank you.”

Myrcella nodded at her and Sansa nodded back. As sorry as she felt to ruin her date, she couldn’t help but wish there had been someone there at the start to do the same thing for Shireen. Someone to spare her heart.

“Pretty dress,” Myrcella lamented.

“You too,” Sansa agreed.

With that she turned and left, leaving the three of them sitting grumpily together.

“Was that necessary?,” Harry asked her.

“You literally begged me to!,” she pointed out.

“Yeah yeah girl power whatever,” Harry argued.

“Oh my god,” Myrcella laughed angrily, “You are such a tremendous asshole, I honestly can’t sit here with you for another second.”

“Myrcella,” Trystane tried for a third time.

“Don’t bother,” she waved him off, “I honestly don’t understand you at all.”

With that she got up and walked out of the room. The evening was such a waste of a good outfit and she was wondering if she could compose herself enough to go out with Shireen and the boys.

She was almost to the stairs when she felt a hand on her arm turning her gently. It was Trystane.

“I’m serious, don’t bother,” she warned.

“I’m sorry,” Trystane said anyway, “It was stupid. I… I wasn’t thinking you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” she nodded, “And I don’t find carelessness an attractive quality.”

“I…fuck I was just nervous,” he said.

“Which is it?,” she wondered, “Did you not think about it or was it premeditated?”

“I… I don’t know. I’ve wanted this for so long and when you finally said yes I was just afraid I was going to fuck it up so I wanted a buffer and I chose the absolutely wrong one,” he said.

“You know what he did to her,” she reminded him, “And because you’re not a complete moron you know how fucked up it was and you know that there is _no_ way I’d be comfortable sitting across from him at dinner.”

“I honestly didn’t even think about it,” Trystane sighed, shrugging, “Harry’s jokes, you know?”

Myrcella looked at him. At his dark curly hair and his golden eyes and his bespoke suit.

“Thank you,” she said.

With that she turned on her heel and started walking down the stairs.

It was either curiosity or hubris that made him ask after her, “For what?”

It was either exhaustion or malice that made her answer, “For reminding me that my gut is never wrong.”

He didn’t say anything to that, because for a guy who wasn’t used to it, he knew when he had lost.

She walked down the stairs, past the dining room. She thought about how many of the people had looked up at the little window, seeing only the glow from the chandelier, and wondered how wonderful the lives of the people in it must be.

She walked down the next flight and the doors opened for her magically, depositing her out onto the street.

She pulled out her phone and looked at the time. It was only 8:27. It felt like midnight.

Finding the number that she wanted she pressed _call_ and held the phone to her ear.

Shireen picked up on the second ring, “El?”

“Does that offer still stand?,” she wondered.

“We’ll be right there,” Shireen promised.

Myrcella was about to agree but then she heard laughter from the cellar bar, and looked around and saw the city lights, the people sitting at the cafes, life swirling all around her.

Harry had already ruined Shireen’s year, there was no reason he had to ruin her night as well.

“No,” she said, then grinned, “Where are you? I’m on my way.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Did I or did I _not_ tell you?,” Robb asked.

“YES, okay YES, we’ve already established that I’m an idiot for agreeing to go on a date with him,” Sansa agreed for what felt like the hundredth time this week. “Forgive me if I don’t always immediately jump to follow your dating advice.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?,” Robb guffawed.

Sansa looked at him pointedly, the term _willful ignorance_ springing to mind. He looked at her pointedly back, as though waiting for her to explain.

“Well you’ve never exactly pushed me to date anyone, now have you?,” she challenged.

“Um, excuse me. What about Jon?,” Robb argued.

“We don’t _talk_ about Jon,” she reminded him.

“Well then don’t make arguments that he is the obvious rebuttal to,” Robb suggested.

She was honest to goodness fighting the urge to stick her tongue out at him. She loved him, _obviously_ , she even liked him most of the time. But sometimes he could be such a _nudge_.

_Though maybe some of your annoyance is misplaced?_ a nagging voice in her head wondered.

“Fine,” she agreed, “You’re right. Though it’s not like that worked out well either.”

Robb grimaced, his eyes softening and he nodded, “Yeah, I know. Sorry, Dovey.”

She waved him off, “It’s fine, it’s fine. Besides I’ve done enough moaning about Jon Snow to last me a lifetime. Let’s talk about something else… how was _your_ date?”

“I think it made yours look good,” Robb grimaced.

“Impossible, how?,” Sansa grinned.

“Well for starters… SHE BROUGHT HER BOYFRIEND,” Robb exclaimed.

Sansa started choking on her lemon drop martini. She could feel vodka in her nose, but it didn’t matter.

“What _cough_ are _cough cough_ you talk- _cough-_ ing about?,” she asked, taking another small sip to try to even things out.

“Okayso,” Robb shook his head, “I show up at the restaurant and she’s there sitting with a guy. And at first I thought maybe she had double-booked which would have been bad enough. But no, she waves me over and I sit down and she introduces her boyfriend. They’ve been together for four years, are STD free, and are interested in _spicing things up_.”

Sansa through her head back and cackled, “Oh my god that is a first. What did you say?”

“I said that I was flattered but that I wasn’t interested, and then I gave them Theon’s number,” Robb said.

Sansa nodded, “Good thought. He’ll be into it.”

“Yeah so, not the one,” he shook his head, then held up his old fashioned, “Here’s to us, reliably unlucky in love.”

She clinked her glass against his and took a small sip. They’d decided to try a new cocktail bar that Arya had raved about. It was cool inside, both in that it had a nice vibe and also in that it was physically cool. It had stone walls and there was a huge walk in freezer where guests could put on a parka and do a vodka tasting for $50 in the back. In spite of that somewhat gimmicky addition, it was filled with people their age sitting in small groups. It wasn’t the type of place where people would dance, but it definitely benefited from overflow from the clubs nearby. The drinks were great and there was a decided buzz in the air.

“Is that what you’re looking for?,” she asked him.

“Is wh-holy _shit_ ,” Robb cut himself off, his gaze somewhere over her shoulder.

“Uh oh, what’s Arya wearing?,” Sansa wondered.

“No uh…,” Robb trailed off. She gave him a look and he blinked out of it, “The most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my entire life just walked in.”

“Ooooh,” Sansa nodded and then turned around looking for the girl in question.

She was distracted though by someone she recognized.

“Oh there’s Myrcella!,” she realized.

“Which one’s Myrcella?,” Robb asked.

“The blonde in the silver top,” Sansa pointed.

“That’s _her_ ,” Robb hissed.

Sansa turned around, “Her who?”

“Her the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my entire life!,” he hissed again.

“Calm down,” she ordered.

“I can’t,” Robb argued.

“Well I’m not going to call her over here if you’re having a hissy fit,” she told him sternly.

Robb looked at her and then took a deep breath, nodding slowly as he leaned back against his side of the booth, adopting a relaxed position.

Sansa turned back and called, “Myrcella!”

Myrcella looked around before her eyes landed on her. Her jaw dropped but she recovered quickly and pasted a small smile on her face. She turned to her companion, another beautiful girl and said something and the other girl nodded before Myrcella started walking towards them.

Robb was right, she really was unbelievably pretty. It had been so intimidating walking into the room and seeing her there, anger radiating off of her, perfect in her green silk dress.

And though the girl had been perfectly nice to her, she wondered now if calling her over wasn’t a mistake. It was too late though for that thought.

“Hii,” Myrcella said, “Sansa right?”

“Yeah,” Sansa nodded, “Myrcella?”

The girl nodded and looked between her and Robb, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and then smiling at her, “I’m really happy I ran into you. I’m so sorry about the other night.”

“Oh please,” Sansa waved her off, “You were totally blindsided.”

“Still, though,” Myrcella said, “I wish… no, that’s not true actually,” she giggled, “I think you’re well out of it to be honest.” She then glanced at Robb and said, “And you’ve seemed to upgrade already,” and then winked at her, “Nice work.”

“I’mherbrother,” Robb cut in.

“I’m so sorry, what was that?,” Myrcella asked gently.

“This is my brother,” Sansa explained and then Robb shot daggers at her so she supplied, “Robb.”

“Oh!,” Myrcella exclaimed and then laughed, and shrugged, “Well I should be embarrassed about that but I don’t embarrass very easily. Hi Robb.”

“Hey so wait, how do you two know each other?,” Robb asked.

“This is _Myrcella_ ,” Sansa explained, “She was the other girl on the date the other night.”

“Oh,” Robb nodded, placing her in his mind and then seemed to register it and turned to Myrcella, “ _Oh._ ”

“Yep,” Myrcella agreed, and then stage whispered as though divulging a huge secret, “I made a bit of a scene.”

Robb looked up at her, a slow smile spreading on his face. His eyes were traveling endlessly, as though to take everything in all at once. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him look at a girl like that. In truth, she wasn’t sure that she ever had.

“I would have done worse,” Robb shrugged.

Myrcella looked at him, that slow smile spreading on her face as well, “I’ll just bet.”

Sansa was beginning to feel like a third wheel, which was only slightly better to the fourth wheel she’d felt like the first time she’d met Myrcella. This girl had a talent for drawing all the light in the room in her direction and she couldn’t help but wonder if she knew it or not.

Myrcella turned to her and the smile was gone from her face, her eyes serious and a little sad, “I promise you’re well out of it. Truly, I can’t even begin to tell you what Shireen -“

“What Shireen _what_?,” another voice cut in.

They all turned to look at the girl who’d just approached. She had glossy brown hair and bright blue eyes, Myrcella’s exact nose and a rueful grin on her face, making the scar on her left cheek endearing rather than detracting.

She was petite, the top of her head reaching only to the bottom of Myrcella’s nose - she, who wasn’t tall to begin with - and was almost doll like. She was wearing the green silk dress Myrcella had been wearing the week before and holding two drinks in her hands.

“Can you put those down?,” Myrcella asked her.

Shireen squinted at her and Myrcella raised her eyebrows so Shireen placed them on the table. Sansa looked at Robb to give him a warning glance, as she knew _exactly_ who Shireen was, but he was still looking up with that goofy smile on his face.

Myrcella wrapped an arm around Shireen’s slender shoulders and gestured to her, “Shireen this is Sansa.”

“Hi,” Shireen smiled brightly.

“Hey,” Sansa smiled warily.

Myrcella gave her a reassuring nod and said, “I met Sansa last week. She’s the girl who Harry brought on the date.”

Everything in the room turned instantly silent. That’s how it felt anyway. Like everything was silent and in slow motion.

Shireen turned to her, the gears turning in her mind, her blue eyes shining, “Of course.” She then looked at the remnants of her lemon drop martini and then at her fresh drink, and Sansa was slightly worried she was about to be wearing it. Shireen smiled as slyly as her cousin though and said, “You must need another.”

***

The Stark siblings quickly made room for them at their table. She and Shireen were going to meet Gendry later but had no reason not to sit down so they did.

She slid in next to Sansa, thinking it’d be safer than sharing a bench with Robb.

_Robb._

To call him handsome was almost an insult. He was… _beautiful_. Bright blue eyes and curly russet hair, a square jaw and a grin that ought to be illegal. Even seated it was obvious he had a nice build and she was a little afraid that if she sat too close she’d spend her time counting the freckles dotting his cheekbones.

So she’d rather awkwardly pushed Shireen his way and sat down next to Sansa.

“Alright,” Robb tapped his hands on the table, and then pointed at Sansa, “You need another.” He then took his glass and knocked it back, “As do I.” He then grinned at her and Shireen, “And you two? Shots?”

“Shots, shots, shots shots shots,” Shireen agreed.

“So that’s five for her…,” Robb teased as he waved over a server.

He ordered Sansa a lemon drop martini and an old fashioned for himself, which just _suited_ him. He then ordered four tequila shots and when Sansa shook her head he grinned and added four whiskey.

“Oh my,” Myrcella laughed, her hands on her cheeks, “It isn’t even midnight!”

“Don’t be a _sissy_ sissy,” Shireen teased.

“I thought you two were cousins,” Sansa clarified.

“We are,” Myrcella confirmed, “But we were raised thick as thieves, weren’t we, Shy?”

“Who on earth is Shy?,” Robb asked.

“Me, dummy,” Shireen said, tweaking his nose for emphasis.

“Silly me,” Robb deadpanned.

Shireen threw her head back and laughed and Robb let out a deep, earthy chuckle in return. Unbelievably Myrcella felt jealousy churning in her stomach.

_Get it together, Baratheon. You want her to move on from Harry._

And she did. She _really_ did.

_But does it have to be with him?_

“So how did you meet my ex?,” Shireen asked Sansa, taking a sip of her whiskey sour.

Sansa blushed prettily, “I was at the park with Robb and our sister Arya, he and his friends were playing soccer.”

“Let me guess, the ball just _happened_ to land right at your feet?,” Shireen suggested.

“Maybe,” Sansa agreed and then let her elbows bang on the table and buried her head in her hands, “Am I like the stupidest girl who ever lived?”

“No no,” Shireen grabbed hold of her and then looked at Myrcella, “Switch spots with me for a second.”

Her blood thrummed in her chest and she tried not to stand up too eagerly. If anyone was noticing her heart attack they were doing a good job of hiding it as Shireen sat down in her vacant spot.

She sat down next to Robb, toward the edge of the booth and he reached and pulled her drink until it was nestled in front of her.

“Thank you,” she felt a smile slowly take over her face.

He scrunched his nose adorably and shook his head once, “I don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?,” she asked, only somewhat aware of the fact that their eyes hadn’t left each other’s.

“Why he would encourage his buddy to crash your date,” he said.

“Oh,” she nodded, taking a small sip of her martini, “Apparently he was nervous.”

“That I get,” Robb grinned.

“Oh really?,” she asked, placing her drink down on the table, “Am I so scary?”

He chuckled, “You’re terrifying.”

“Oh I don’t think I’m as bad as all that,” she demurred.

“No?,” he challenged.

She shrugged, “Or maybe I just need someone braver.”

Robb opened his mouth to volley back but they were interrupted by the server returning with his and Sansa’s drinks and an excessive eight shots.

“Tequila,” the server pointed to the lighter four, and then to the darker, “Whiskey.”

She and Sansa both reached out immediately for the whiskey. Sansa giggled wind chimes and she laughed back as they both went to secure the other two whiskeys. She didn’t have the stomach for tequila anymore, not since Gendry got her drunk for the first time.

Shireen loved tequila anyway and if Robb minded he wasn’t saying so. They each lifted their first shot towards one another.

“What should we drink to?,” Sansa asked.

“To bravery,” Robb supplied quickly.

She knew that if she turned to look at him she’d melt into the floor, so she threw her shot back, chasing it with a sip of her martini.

“Another,” Shireen said, holding up her second one of tequila towards Sansa. When Sansa hesitated she went on, as Myrcella’s father would, “Come on, it’ll put hair on your chest.”

“I don’t want that,” Sansa scrunched her nose and then laughed.

Shireen shrugged and tossed hers back. As she was distracted Myrcella got up and snatched her purse off the seat.

“No fair!,” Shireen argued, right before sucking on a lemon.

“You know you have to keep a weather eye out around me, baby,” Myrcella ignored her.

She opened her bag and grabbed Shireen’s phone out and then handed her cousin her purse back. She took her seat and put the phone into her own bag and tucked it underneath her legs so that Shireen couldn’t grab it back.

“I’m _not_ going to text him,” Shireen promised.

“Mmmhm, drink your drink,” Myrcella waved her off, not believing her for a second.

“Alright, this calls for reinforcements,” Robb said as he grabbed his own phone.

“Robb no,” Sansa urged.

“Robb yes,” Robb argued.

“Who’s he-,” Shireen started as Robb held the phone to his ear.

Myrcella glanced at Sansa and Sansa gestured to the second whiskey shot. Trusting her reactions she picked up her whiskey as Sansa did the same and they cheersed before throwing it back.

“Theon,” Robb grinned, “Where are you?… Mmmhm, okay. Yeah. Who with? Shit. Never mind. No. No. Wait how did you even set the tracker up on my phone? No… _Sansa’s_ here. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Okay see you soon.”

“That sounded like a hostage negotiation,” Shireen informed him as he hung up the phone.

Myrcella took a sip of her martini, easing back against the booth, content to let this one play out.

“So Theon’s coming?,” Sansa asked.

“Yeah,” Robb nodded.

“With?,” Sansa picked up on whatever Robb had dropped in that way that siblings always did.

“Well…,” Robb said.

“No,” Sansa argued.

“He heard you were here,” Robb sighed. There was something going on between them that made her and Shireen both feel like outsiders. Which they were, but they were kind of stuck now as well. “Come on, Dovey,” Robb said gently. Like he’d always protect her. “You have to face him eventually.”

“Should we go?,” Myrcella asked.

“Don’t you dare!,” Sansa argued. Shaking her shoulders adorably as though trying to psych herself up, “You two will be good buffers.”

“You know what’s an even _better_ buffer?,” Shireen noted.

“Whiskey,” Sansa nodded.

“And tequila,” Shireen agreed.

“Lots of each, really,” Myrcella agreed.

It had become clear that Shireen was not the only girl at this table sorely in need of getting over someone. Whoever this Jon character was clearly meant a great deal to Sansa, and it was made all the more confusing that Robb was allowing him to come.

_He seemed as good a brother as Gendry or Tommy, but maybe he’s more like Joff…_

“Say the word and we’re out, okay?,” Robb asked Sansa intently though, waving off that thought. “Until then I’m buying.”

“Oh yes,” Sansa nodded and then took a big sip of her lemon drop martini, “Yes, yes you are.”


	3. Chapter 3

There were two things that were incredibly obvious.

The first was that as soon as she opened her eyes, her head was going to explode. The second was that she wasn’t in bed alone. Which meant that she _had_ to open her eyes, because the third was that she had no idea _who_ she was in bed with. The fourth was that she was obviously very bad at counting in her reduced state.

As though she could fool her impending hangover, she opened one eye a smidge. All she saw was pink though.

With quite a bit of effort she lifted her hand and felt something soft covering her face. She pulled it away and lifted it. It was a boa. A hot pink boa, as a matter of fact.

It was also wrapped around her neck and she pulled at it inelegantly until it was off of her and she tossed it across the room. Or she tried to anyway, but it landed at the foot of the bed.

She was definitely not in her room. It was bigger than hers and had a window letting in an ungodly amount of sunlight. Which meant it wasn’t Jon’s either.

Which was good.

Even still her stomach churned, though that could have been from the vodka, or the whiskey or the _ew did I actually drink absinthe_?

She turned to her left and saw another form next to her. This person also had a boa covering their face, but it was a brownish color.

She lifted the boa and it _groaned._

_“Ahhh_ ,” she exclaimed.

The form beneath it stirred and then she felt movement behind her as well.

_Oh my god, did I go home with Robb’s date and her boyfriend from the other night?_

Admittedly that didn’t sound like something she would do but if her headache was any indication she wasn’t exactly making sound judgments last night.

“Shut _up_ ,” the person behind her groaned.

She recognized that voice, though she wasn’t sure from where.

Sansa turned around and saw Shireen curled up in the fetal position. She didn’t have a boa but for some reason was wearing a vintage looking ski jacket. Which was weird, considering it was September.

At least Sansa thought it was, anyway.

“Stop it,” the person on her left ordered.

Sansa turned around. It was clear that Myrcella wasn’t speaking to her, but rather the cat that she’d mistaken from a boa. The cat was trying to burrow underneath her.

“Ser _Pounce_ ,” Myrcella cried, turning over on her stomach.

_Ser Pounce_ was undeterred and walked around Myrcella’s back before settling down so that he was resting on her shoulder blades, his head on hers.

Sansa would have found it pretty cute if this and everything else in the world didn’t make her want to vomit.

“Oh _god_ ,” she couldn’t help but groan.

“Oh _god_ ,” Myrcella agreed.

“Go _away_ ,” Shireen ordered from behind her.

Myrcella laughed with her eyes still closed and Sansa did as well. It felt nice to laugh, it ebbed the headache for a moment.

“Sansa?,” Myrcella asked.

“Died last night,” Sansa informed her.

“I need coffee but I also need to not exist,” Myrcella complained.

Coffee. _Coffee_. What a beautiful, beautiful word.

“Can we have coffee and _then_ stop existing?,” Sansa pleaded.

“Yes,” Myrcella agreed. “Is there a cat on my head?”

“Uh huh,” Sansa confirmed.

“Thank goodness I thought I was going crazy,” Myrcella sighed. “Ser Pounce move it.”

Ser Pounce showed absolutely no desire to move it.

“Come on lazybones, _off_ ,” Myrcella urged again.

She reached up and tried to nudge the cat, but he merely purred and rolled onto his back.

“Come on,” Sansa urged, pushing him gently, “Move, please, _please_.”

The cat was not swayed by her obvious desperation for caffeine.

“Okay, it’s happening,” Myrcella informed the room and pushed up onto her knees.

Ser Pounce was not alarmed and when Myrcella straightened up he merely slid down to the bed.

“Okay,” Myrcella rubbed her cheeks, “Coffee. Shireen do you want some?”

“FUCK YOU,” Shireen exclaimed.

“K love you,” Myrcella nodded and got out of bed.

Sansa followed her with some effort. It felt strange to be standing upright. In truth she wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing could be considered _standing upright_ but she was standing unsupported which felt like a good step.

“What are you wearing?,” Myrcella asked her.

Sansa looked down. She seemed to be wearing the ski pants that went with Shireen’s ski jacket and the silver top that Myrcella had been wearing the night before.

At least she was dressed though.

Myrcella had what seemed to be a scrunchy around her waist and nothing else on top, and tights on the bottom.

Seeming to realize this she looked down at herself, “Wait what am I wearing?”

Sansa didn’t have the strength to answer her and Myrcella tugged the scrunchy up over her head and went into her closet. She grabbed out an oversized turtleneck sweater and pulled it on and then used the scrunchy to pull her golden hair off her face.

With the tights and the smudged make up she looked like Edie Sedgwick. Which was impressive and annoying at the same time.

“Do you want something?,” Myrcella asked.

It would take at least two cups of coffee before Sansa had the strength to care about her clothing so she shook her head. Myrcella nodded and shuffled into the next room, using the slipperiness of the tights to get her there without lifting her feet.

Sansa followed her into an oversized room that had couches and a card table and then a kitchen at the other end of it.

“OHHHH if it isn’t the Northern Flowers,” a loud voice greeted them.

“Oh my god Tommy be quiet,” Myrcella pleaded.

“I don’t know you,” Sansa said, “But I will kill you if you keep speaking at that volume.”

“What if I bring you coffee?,” the voice asked.

“Then you can talk at whatever volume you want,” she noted.

“Go sit on the couch, I’ll bring it over,” the man who seemed to be Tommy chuckled.

Myrcella wordlessly nodded and changed direction. Sansa followed her to the couches and they both took a seat.

Sansa closed her eyes and what felt like a moment later felt someone taking her hand and enclosing it around a cup of coffee.

“Bless you,” she sighed, bringing it to her lips.

It was hot and sweet, just as she liked it and she took another grateful sip before opening her eyes.

Tommy was settling onto the couch next to Myrcella, who was holding her own cup of coffee.

“Can you rub my temples?,” Myrcella asked him.

Tommy chuckled, “Come here.”

Myrcella scooted closer and Tommy wrapped his arm around the back of the sofa and then brought his hands to her temples, rubbing them as she sipped coffee.

“This is the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen, and I’m so jealous,” Sansa admitted.

Myrcella giggled into her coffee and Tommy grinned, “You can be next.”

She sipped her coffee and looked at him. Now that she’d had a few sips she could identify him as Myrcella’s younger brother. Like his older sister he had dark golden hair and bright green eyes, and was, for all intents and purposes, aesthetically perfect.

“So any chance of an encore?,” Tommy asked.

“What are you talking about?,” Myrcella yawned.

Ser Pounce had followed them in and hopped up into her lap. Now that she was seated, Myrcella stroked his head as she sipped her coffee.

“Your girl group,” Tommy informed them.

Sansa and Myrcella looked at one another.

“What on earth happened last night?,” a voice echoed Sansa’s thoughts.

But it wasn’t her and it wasn’t Myrcella. They all looked towards the doorway and saw Shireen standing there in the ski jacket and seemingly nothing else.

“A bit foggy on that,” Myrcella told her.

“Did I make out with someone?,” Shireen asked.

“Me,” Sansa nodded, “I think?”

***

“No no, oh my god,” Shireen laughed, “Robb’s _Lucky_ has to be the best one.”

Myrcella giggled, having completely forgotten that Robb had informed them all _It’s Britney, bitch_ and gotten up and performed a heartfelt rendition of Lucky. The whole bar had joined in, but whether it was because they loved it so much or they wanted to drown out his terrible singing she wasn’t sure.

After the first cup of coffee they had started to piece together the night. During the second they had decided that ordering bagels was the only thing that could possibly salvage the day.

“Truly terrible,” Sansa laughed. “But he’s got the spirit.”

The buzzer rang and Myrcella got off the couch and went to go let the delivery guy up.

“ _Iiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiii will always,”_ Shireen laugh-sang.

“Love _youuuu-hoooooo_ ,” Sansa laugh sang back.

Myrcella chuckled, thinking of Robb and Sansa’s friend Theon paying tribute to Whitney Houston. He’d actually gotten heckled off the stage, but he’d given it his all until then.

She opened the door and thanked the delivery guy as she took the large bag from him. As soon as she set it down on the table Shireen launched at it, pulling out iced coffees and bagels and the box of freshly made donuts they had panic-bought.

Myrcella took her seat back on the couch and accepted the wrapped bagel from Shireen, as well as her overly sweetened iced vanilla coffee. She unwrapped the parchment paper and nearly groaned at the smell wafting - an everything bagel with sundried tomato cream cheese was _just_ what the doctor ordered.

Sansa and Shireen were also unwrapping theirs. Shireen had gotten a bacon, egg, and cheese on a very heavily toasted pumpernickel bagel and Sansa had gotten a cinnamon raisin bagel with butter.

As they hadn’t judged her for her hangover cure, she hadn’t judged them for theirs.

Myrcella bit into hers and leaned back against the couch, tucking her legs up underneath her.

So far they had pieced together the following. That after Robb had dutifully gone to get them another round, she and Shireen had asked Sansa about Jon. She hadn’t been terribly forthcoming, which really told them everything they needed to know, so they’d decided that an intimate setting was not the ticket. She’d volunteered - ignoring Shireen’s smirk - to go tell Robb about the change of plans, and he’d sent a text to Theon and Jon to meet them at a nearby club.

Twenty minutes later, Jon - who was equally gorgeous as he was brooding - and Theon - who was equally gorgeous as he was roguish - joined them at one club. They danced there for a bit and moved onto a rooftop bar.

There was some discussion about what happened _exactly_ after that, but as far as she could recall they’d gone to a dive bar and Robb had given her change for the jukebox. She’d put on one of her old favorites and he’d started singing it.

_She smiled, that slow, wide smile that he had been beckoning all night, “You’re terrible. Truly.”_

_He smiled, that slow, wide smile that he had been returning all night, “You’re beautiful. Truly.”_

_“That’s besides the point,” she demurred._

_“So, what do you say, Baratheon? Is your voice as pretty as that face of yours?,” he challenged._

_She shrugged, picking up his glass of whiskey and taking a small sip, delighting in the way his eyes widened as she did._

_“I can carry a tune,” she allowed._

_He narrowed his eyes at her, “Prove it.”_

Shireen was very much of the belief that it had actually been her and Jon’s brilliant idea to go to the karaoke bar across town. Myrcella was more than happy for her to take credit.

“This tastes as good as I feel bad,” Shireen announced.

“Yeah,” her and Sansa agreed together.

Myrcella set down her bagel, knowing that if she didn’t pace herself she’d get even sicker, and took a nice long sip of her iced coffee.

“So what happened when we got back?,” Shireen asked. Then turned to Sansa, “You kept shouting something. Area?”

“Huh?,” Sansa asked, taking a bite of her bagel and then shook her head, “Honestly I have no idea.”

“But Tommy and Gendry were definitely here when we got back, right?,” Myrcella added.

Sansa and Shireen both nodded, “Yeah. They were having some video game marathon,” Shireen said. “And you announced that 23A was the next stop on our world tour.”

“That explains the boa,” Sansa yawned.

Myrcella giggled and then placed her coffee down on the table and laid down so that her head was in Shireen’s lap.

“So,” she started. “Do you want to talk about that moment…”

“I told you it’s fine if you want to date Robb!,” Sansa exclaimed giddily, “I think it’s great, honestly.”

“And it was a little more than a _moment_ ,” Shireen added, “He hardly left your side all night.”

Myrcella blushed, “ _No._ I meant Sansa’s moment with _Jon_.”

Sansa buried her face in her hands and groaned, “I don’t even _remember_ what I said other than the word _abandoned_. A lot. Like… an excessive amount.”

“Ouch,” Shireen said gently. “Though in truth, he kind of had it coming.”

Myrcella looked up at Shireen and her cousin whispered _I’ll tell you later_. Myrcella nodded, realizing that Shireen must have gotten the details while she’d been otherwise occupied.

“Ugh can we just talk about you and Robb?,” Sansa asked, “I’m strangely more comfortable talking about my brother’s love life than my lack of one.”

“There’s nothing to really talk about,” Myrcella said honestly. “We just… talked.”

In truth she wished she remembered more of what they talked about. She was a bit hazy on specifics. All she remembered was the feeling.

“There was a _bit_ of grinding as well,” Shireen pointed out.

“And some full on eye… you know what? It wasn’t even eye fucking. It was like…,” Sansa shook her head.

“Eye lovemaking,” Shireen put in.

“Ew! Oh my god,” Myrcella cackled.

“He is one of the good ones, though,” Sansa said.

“Yeah, but you would say that, wouldn’t you?,” Shireen suggested.

“I wouldn’t,” Myrcella defended Sansa and Robb at the same time, “If someone asked me about Joff.”

“Good point,” Shireen nodded.

“I’d say it even if he weren’t my brother,” Sansa confirmed. She took a sip of her iced coffee and shook her head, “And in all honesty… I’ve never seen him like that in my life.”

“She has that effect on people,” Shireen agreed, “It’s a bit annoying.”

“Oh _psshh_ ,” Myrcella waved her off.

“It’s true and you know it and there is nothing cute about pretending you don’t know how cute you are,” Shireen snapped grumpily, tempering it by playing with her hair, “But honestly El. I’ve never seen _you_ look like that back.” 

Myrcella picked up a lock of hair and pretended to look for split ends. After a moment she still felt eyes on her, so she looked first at Sansa and then at Shireen. They both smiled slyly at her.

Nervous energy took over her whole body and she wiggled, an excited giggle escaping her mouth. Sansa and Shireen joined in and the three of them started laughing.

When they quieted down, Shireen leaned forward and opened the box of donuts and pulled one out. She ripped it in half and handed Myrcella the other one.

“So, what’s Theon’s deal?,” Shireen asked.

“Give me the donut,” Sansa ordered.

“What?,” Shireen asked, “There are like ten more in there.”

“I don’t care,” Sansa shook her head, and held her hand out for it. Unbelievably Shireen leaned forward and handed it to her. Sansa held it up and said, “Now you’ll get this back when you pull your head out of your ass.”

Myrcella looked up at Shireen whose jaw had dropped open and it was so ridiculous that she let out a cackle. Sansa and Shireen’s serious expressions only made her laugh harder.

She wasn’t sure how long it took but sooner or later they both joined in.

By mid-afternoon the coffees were gone and the box of donuts had been polished off by Tommy. None of them had moved very much and though bits of the night before were still a bit hazy, two things had become incredibly clear: They were well and truly friends now, and they were _never_ drinking absinthe again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there anything better than the hungover, sitting on the couch with your girlfriends, laughing about the stupidity of the night before???
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think! xo


	4. Chapter 4

“Oh my god,” Sansa moaned in the back of the taxi.

“Two more minutes, miss,” the driver pleaded with her.

She had left Shireen and Myrcella just after four, when it had become clear that they had very much bounced back from their hangovers and that hers was a bit more stubborn. As she’d left the girls were going to go meet somebody named Gendry for some food at an Astaporian restaurant and had invited her to come along but the idea of anymore food had made her want to vomit.

She hadn’t even really seen where she was going when she left the apartment, all she wanted was to get back to hers so that she could curl up in bed and watch an old movie and drink tea until the hangover abated. She had the troublesome feeling this might be a two day one, and was wondering if she could call in sick to work tomorrow.

The taxi driver had been kind enough to let her into his car even though to her, him, and everyone else within a fifty foot radius it was obvious that there was a very good chance she was going to vomit in it.

“Okay, here we are,” the driver said and she handed him a twenty for an eight dollar ride and fled the car.

He sped off as though he was just as desperate and she closed her eyes and stood outside for a moment. It was a cool day and it felt nice to be in fresh air, as fresh as the city got anyway.

In fact, if she stood like this, outside with her eyes closed for the next ten to twelve hours she might have a chance of surviving her hangover.

“Sansa?,” a deep Northern voice asked.

_Never mind, just let me die…_

She opened one eye, hoping that it was someone, _anyone_ , else. But of course it was Jon Snow.

She opened both eyes and fought the dizziness that started as she did. When she was able to focus it was clear that he looked annoyingly well, as though he’d been in bed by eight after drinking a glass of warm whole milk the night before.

“What are you doing here?,” she asked.

“I’ve been here for hours,” he all but grumbled, “Where have you been?”

She swallowed the rising bile in her throat, “How is that any of your business?”

_Don’t_ , she told herself. _Don’t fall for those wounded puppy dog eyes. Not again._

_Never again._

“It’s not I suppose,” he agreed with her, “Are you feeling alright?”

“No,” she all but seethed, “I’m actually feeling horrendous, so can you please hurry up and tell me why you’re here so that I can go vomit in _peace_?”

“So you don’t remember,” Jon seemed to realized and then nodded once, “I thought you might not.”

Panic seized her chest, feeling like Tracy Lord when she found Macaulay’s wristwatch. Visions of the night before flooded her mind, the shots, the dive bar, that rooftop view that everyone kept exclaiming about but all she could do was look at him. None of them gave her any clarity.

So she had to ask, “Don’t remember what?”

“I told you I was going to come by today,” he said, “So that we could talk properly… You told me not to.”

“And yet you came anyway,” Sansa turned herself to ice, knowing it was the only way she’d get through the next five minutes.

“Yeah,” he scratched his cheek, “How could I not? The things you said…”

Her cheeks flamed as a chill ran down her spine. Fire and ice, he’d always been that to her.

“I don’t remember what I said,” Sansa admitted, then suggested, “You ought to forget it too.”

He took a step towards her and she took a step back, not wanting him close enough to hold her. And admittedly not wanting him close enough to smell her either.

“I can’t,” Jon argued, “It’s all I… _you’re_ all I…”

Her phone dinged in her clutch and she was grateful for the distraction. She couldn’t listen to what he had to say.

She took it out and saw that it was a text from Arya.

_Housewarming party on Friday night._

She looked up and saw that Jon was looking at his phone too.

“That oughta be something,” he grinned, “Do you think they even have glasses?”

She shook her head, “I don’t care. Just don’t talk to me at the party. Pretend like I don’t exist. You’ve had a bit of practice at that, haven’t you?”

That was unfair and his face showed it. Maybe not for the current situation but she knew that it ran deeper than that.

It would have been so much easier if she could have just felt about him the way that Arya did. Like he was another big brother. Rickon and Bran felt it too, and Robb most of all.

They’d never been close though, when they were kids. And all that distance between them created room for all sorts of feelings to grow.

It had always been a trigger for him. When she pointed it out. That they weren’t close. That they never had been.

Because all of that time that he was ignoring her he was watching out for her too. She just hadn’t seen it. Hadn’t wanted to. It was easier to pretend that he didn’t care.

So when it all happened it fit very nicely into the narrative she’d told herself time and time again.

“Sansa,” he breathed.

It would be easier if he hated her the way she hated him. The way she _wanted_ to hate him. So she pressed on, hating herself all the while.

“Just leave, Jon,” she shook her head, walking by him, “You’ve had a bit of practice at that, too.”

***

It was a beautiful evening out. One of those gorgeous late summer ones where the air felt new and cozy all at the same time.

She worked only a mile from her apartment so she’d decided to walk home, stopping at a local market to pick up some cheese and crackers and a bottle of wine, and then another where she couldn’t resist getting a bouquet of perfect periwinkle hydrangeas for each of her and Shireen’s rooms.

She walked into her building and headed around the corner to grab the mail. She heard laughing and was only mildly surprised to find Tommy there.

He was standing there with a large boy with dark brown curly hair.

“ _Wow_ ,” the boy said when he saw her.

Tommy turned around and grinned, “Hey El.”

“Hi Tommy,” she smiled and then turned to his companion, “I’m his sister Myrcella.”

“I’m Hotpie,” the boy greeted her.

“Hotpie?,” she couldn’t help but repeat.

“He’s training to be a baker,” Tommy explained.

“Oh,” she smiled, “Nice to meet you Hotpie.”

The boy nodded, “I live just next door! In 23B.”

“Oh!,” she exclaimed. “I was wondering when we’d meet you guys.”

“Yeah we came down for our mail,” Tommy started and then he and Hotpie said at once, “At the same time.” And then laughed like little boys.

She had no idea what was so funny about that but the pair were adorable so she laughed too.

“So anyway, promise you’ll come on Friday?,” Hotpie asked Tommy and then turned to her, “You too. Please?”

“What is happening Friday?,” Myrcella asked, not totally sure she wanted to commit to it.

“We’re having a party,” Hotpie grinned, all but puffing out his chest. It clearly sounded very grown up to him. “It was Arry’s idea but you’ve _gotta_ come. It’ll be great.”

Myrcella had no idea who _Arry_ was, but she was content that it wasn’t Harry Hardyng, so she grinned and nodded.

“We’ll be there,” she promised. “Is it okay if I bring our cousin Shireen?”

“Totally,” Hotpie agreed. “Bring whoever you want.”

“And can we bring anything else? Food? Alcohol?,” she wondered.

He seemed to be no older than twenty one, and though she was only twenty four, she felt decades older. She wouldn’t be surprised if he and his roommates hadn’t thought it through.

“No uh, we’ve got that all covered,” Hotpie shook his head, then gulped, “But um… do you know where I can get glasses?”

She chuckled, “Any home store basically. But for a party, you’ll probably want disposable cups.” He looked at her blankly. “How about I bring them?”

He nodded, smiling brightly, “That’d be great.”

“Great, I’ll see you Friday,” she turned then to Tommy, “Anything for me?”

Tommy shook his head, “No…just this…,” with that he proffered a thick, glossy magazine that made her pulse jump, “But you wouldn’t want that…would you?”

“Gimme, gimme, gimme,” she ordered and he chuckled, handing it to her. She held it to her chest. The September issue of _Strut_ was sacred. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

With that she left them and got into the elevator. She now had all the fixings for a perfect night in. She’d change into her pajamas, pour herself a glass of wine and make a little plate of cheese and crackers and then sit on the couch and devour the magazine.

As she got out of the elevator her phone started ringing, but between her bag and the magazine and her parcels she couldn’t grab it. She opened the door and tried to set everything down, reaching into her bag.

It wasn’t anybody that she had saved in her contacts but she picked it up anyway. She rarely did so, but she had a feeling.

“Hello?,” she answered rather breathlessly.

“Myrcella?,” a deep, Northern accent asked.

“Hi,” she smiled.

“Hi,” he returned and she could tell from his voice that he was smiling too. “How are you?”

She left all of her things in a heap on the floor and walked over to the couch and sat down, kicking off her heels and tucking her feet up underneath her.

“I’m great,” she answered. “How are you?”

“Great,” he answered back. “A bit distracted though.”

Her grin grew so wide it almost hurt and she nodded though he couldn’t see it, confessing, “Me too.”

It was the truth. She’d been thinking about him all day yesterday, and last night and all day today. Flashes, _brilliant_ flashes, of Saturday night kept coming to her.

That slow smile of his and the way he leaned towards her when she spoke. His hand on the small of her back and his truly terrible singing voice. Easy laughter and jitters and half a dozen other inconsequential monumental things.

“Good,” he said and they both started that easy laughter. “When can I see you?”

She’d put off Trystane for nearly a year. Even before him she’d never been considered easy prey. The _ice princess_ they’d call her sometimes.

“Soon,” she melted.

“I’m away this week for work,” he all but groaned, “Catching a late flight tonight for some meetings tomorrow. I’m back late Thursday. My sister… Arya not Sansa, is having a party on Friday. Any chance you’d want to be my date and we could… go for dinner afterwards?”

“Oh I’d love- _shoot_. I just made plans for Friday,” she sighed, shaking her head at her stupidity. She had _known_ better than to commit and she did it anyway. “My new neighbors…”

“Oh…,” he said, then asked, “Are they friends of yours?”

“No,” she grimaced, “I just… don’t break plans once I’ve committed to them. It’s this weird -“

“It’s not weird,” he interjected, “It’s good. I like it… I mean that… you know you don’t go whichever way the wind blows. I’d like to see you of course but… I get it. Saturday?”

“Saturday…,” she agreed.

“Myrcella?,” he asked.

“Yes, Robb?,” she asked.

“Will you think it’s weird if I call you tomorrow?,” he posed.

Her cheeks hurt from smiling, and her voice was little more than a coo, “No. No I’d like that.”

“Okay good,” Robb exhaled, “Because I just have this feeling…”

_That we’re soulmates? That we’re meant to be? That you’ve never felt before?_

“That what?,” she asked instead, not wanting to freak him out.

“That…,” he started and then paused, “Fuck it. That I’m not going to be able to wait until Saturday to speak to you again.”

“What time is your flight?,” she asked.

“9, why?,” he asked.

“Well my Monday night is just me and the September Issue of _Strut_. I could talk for a bit now…,” she noted.

“The _September Issue_?,” he asked, “That’s sacred to Sansa.”

She smiled, thinking of how Tommy knew she’d want it immediately. She imagined Robb hiding it from Sansa when they were in high school just to get a rise out of her.

“To me too,” she admitted.

“Well then I’m flattered,” he teased. “So Saturday night… what do you want to do?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said.

She’d meant to say it casually, as though to suggest _I’m so go with the flow, I’m up for anything!_ but in reality it came out like _I don’t care because I’m going to be staring into your soul for the entire evening_.

“Boxing match it is,” he teased.

She laughed, “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Ohhh Baratheon, you’ll soon learn there are very few things that I wouldn’t dare,” he warned.

“Like what?,” she wondered.

“Abso _lutely_ not,” he answered.

“What? Why?,” she protested.

“Because then you’ll dare me to do them, and I think we both know I will,” he confessed self-deprecatingly.

She giggled, “I’d never!”

“Oh yes you would, and so would I,” he laughed back.

Her insides felt gooey and her heart was beating wildly in her chest. All she could see were his blue eyes and that smile and Saturday night couldn’t come soon enough.

“Somewhere quiet,” she suggested. “So we can sit and talk all night without distractions.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I think I know a place. But Myrcella?”

“Yes, Robb?”

“You don’t need to worry about distractions,” he said, “You’re not the kind of girl a guy can look away from.”

***

“It’s just up here,” Robb told the taxi driver.

“When were you here again?,” Sansa wondered.

“The week after she moved in, Mom asked me to drop off some stuff,” Robb noted and then smirked, “It was a _mess_.”

“I wonder if that’s why I haven’t been invited over yet,” Sansa suggested.

It wasn’t as though she hadn’t seen Arya since her sister had moved into her new apartment. They’d gone out to their Mom’s house and had gone thrift store shopping. They’d met for drinks and a dinner.

But Arya hadn’t invited her over in the couple weeks since she’d moved in. She wouldn’t be surprised if it was because Arya was embarrassed about how messy it was or how little furniture they had.

Sansa knew that even to this day, when they were so close, that she still made Arya feel like a little kid. She didn’t _try_ to, but she was a big sister. It was her _job_ to look out for her younger siblings, and Arya had always fought it in a way that Bran and Rickon didn’t.

But she totally understood that their priorities were different. Arya liked to travel via backpacking, camping and hostels and all the rest, whereas Sansa had always needed what their Mom called her _creature comforts_.

She liked pretty things and comfortable furniture, warm blankets to wrap around her and a fridge stocked with yummy things in case of a craving. She was a designer so it really wasn’t all that surprising that she’d take a lot of care with her apartment.

But it’s not like she judged Robb for his minimalist decor. The man hardly had two throw pillows to rub together, but she never said _anything_ and she fought the urge to buy him things for the apartment that didn’t fit into that aesthetic.

Arya too would be more likely to decorate with bright colors and unrelated little knick-knacks and that was _fine_.

Though, Sansa admitted to herself, she really _couldn’t_ abide a mess.

They pulled up in front of an apartment building and Sansa felt the strangest deja-vous. She shook out of it, reminding herself that Arya had showed her the listing when they were thinking of renting it and that one of the pictures was of the outside of the building.

It was one of those newer, sleek buildings that had started peppering the city’s skyline a few years prior. She’d been surprised when Arya showed her the place, thinking she’d be more likely to get a little attic studio in one of the pre-war buildings in the older part of town.

Robb paid that taxi driver and they got out. There were a couple of people in the lobby and Robb directed them around a corner to the elevators.

Weirdly she felt a sense of nausea and she gripped onto Robb’s arm.

“You okay?,” he asked in concern.

She nodded, though she wasn’t entirely sure it was true.

“I feel like I’ve been here before,” she told him.

“In a past life?,” he teased, all the while holding her steady.

She laughed, unable to place it, “Maybe so.”

The nausea left her and Robb hit the button for _23_. It was weird, that.

Though it was entirely likely this little episode was coming from the knowledge, or at least the suspicion, that she’d be seeing Jon later.

He didn’t budge on Sunday, even when she’d ordered him to. He just stood there, looking sad and defeated, and most of all unsurprised. Like he’d always _known_ it was going to be this way, like it was what he deserved.

It was what he deserved, but not because of who he was but because of what he’d chosen to _do_.

It was inconceivable that he was actually playing the victim. And what was worse was that it made her feel guilty. So because he wouldn’t leave, she had to. She brushed past him and left him standing outside of her apartment building. She’d gone upstairs and undressed in the foyer and walked right into the shower, turning it a scalding hot and scrubbing herself clean, washing her hair twice.

She’d then wrapped herself in her warm robe and laid down on her bed and cried violently until she fell into a frenzied sleep.

It didn’t exactly bode well for seeing him again tonight.

“Is Jon coming?,” she asked Robb.

“Yeah, I think so,” he told her, “You going to be okay?”

She shrugged, “We’ll see.”

He looked at her sympathetically and then a bit warily. It wasn’t fair to him, to be caught in the middle between her and Jon. It wasn’t right that she kept putting him there.

“Have you…,” he started but trailed off. She raised her brow so that he’d go on so he sighed and said, “Have you ever considered that maybe he just made a mistake?”

“Which part?,” she prompted.

He nodded, “Yeah. Fair enough.”

The elevator doors opened and now the deja-vous was getting ridiculous. It was more than a feeling, she was getting flashes though she couldn’t place them.

She turned to her left without thinking and Robb pulled her sleeve, “She’s this one.”

He knocked and they heard _It’s open!_ mixed with some indie hip hop song.

Robb sighed and Sansa knew that Arya would be getting the same lecture he’d given her when she first moved into her apartment about always, and he meant _always_ keeping your door locked even _if_ you were expecting someone.

He opened the door and she was surprised that people were already littered about the apartment. There were a _lot_ of hipsters and then a whole group of kids who she was sure would refuse to be defined as such.

They were standing in small groups and sitting on pillows on the floor and on the surprising amount of furniture that Arya and her roommates had assembled.

“Hi _Sansa, you look great,_ ” she heard and turned to her right.

“Oh hi Lommy,” she smiled at one of Arya’s roommates.

“It’s _so cool_ that you’re here,” Lommy went on, “Can I get you something to drink? Or something to eat? Do you want a tour?”

“Hi Lommy,” Robb cut in at her side.

Lommy’s face went white and his eyes went wide, “Oh, hey Robb. I…didn’t see you there.”

“Yeah,” Robb nodded.

She pinched his arm because he was being _mean_. Lommy was terrified of him and it wasn’t his fault that he had a cute little crush on her.

“We’re going to go find Arya,” she told him, “It’s a great apartment.”

“Thanks!,” Lommy smiled, “Yeah I’ll uh catch up with you later. I think Arry is in the kitchen.”

Robb guided her away and she shook her head, “You are _so_ mean.”

Robb chuckled throwing his arm around her, “Yeah I know. He makes it so easy though.”

They walked through the party, waving to a few friends of Arya’s that they’d known over the years. A few of her friends were coming too, Jeyne Poole and Beth Cassel and she knew Theon would likely make an appearance.

She’d expected the apartment to be open concept but she remembered Arya showing her that it had a separate galley kitchen, and she let Robb lead her towards it.

“Oh my god, hi Robb,” some girl cooed.

Sansa looked at her, wondering who she was. She had raven hair and a pretty face and she half expected Robb to stop what he was doing and talk to her. He merely waved though and they continued on.

“Who is that?,” she asked him.

“No idea, honestly,” he shrugged.

She grinned, “But she’s not _Myrcella_.”

Robb blushed but he shook his head, “No. She definitely isn’t.”

It was surprising and sweet, the way Robb had fallen head over heels over head over heels for Myrcella. It had happened so suddenly that it was the sort of thing you couldn’t truly believe hadn’t always existed.

Thankfully Myrcella seemed to feel similarly, and she knew they were meant to be going on a date tomorrow night.

“Do you know what you guys are doing tomorrow?,” she asked.

Robb did now stop walking and he said, “I think I’m going to take her to Nan’s.”

“ _Nan’s?,”_ she clarified.

Nan’s was _sacred_ to her and her family. They went there for birthdays and other special occasions. It was the last place they’d ever gone out to dinner with their Dad.

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes looking into hers. He looked frightened and younger than he ever had. “Is that crazy?”

It was, kind of. And Robb wasn’t crazy. So that could only really mean one thing.

“I think you’re falling for her,” she told him, and allowed, “And yeah, that _will_ make you a little crazy. But…”

“But what?,” he asked.

“But falling for _her_ ,” she shook her head, “I don’t think that’s crazy at all.”

He nodded and she hooked her arm through his and they kept walking. They turned into a small galley kitchen, and there was Arya, sitting on her kitchen counter.

She looked beautiful and herself in a pair of leather leggings and an oversized charcoal sweater, her hair brushed off her face with different colored pins and smudgy eyeliner around her grey eyes.

She was laughing as some looked in the fridge for something.

“There she is!,” Robb grinned.

“Robby, Dovey!,” Arya exclaimed.

Whoever was in the fridge banged their head and then cursed, and Sansa felt a small swell of dread.

A moment later Jon’s head appeared from behind the fridge and his eyes looked anywhere other than hers.

“Arya,” she said and her sister’s eyes snapped to hers, “Any chance I can get a tour?”

***

“You can’t wear that, it’s a _party_ ,” Shireen reminded her.

Myrcella rolled her eyes, “Yeah at our next door neighbor’s house. I just don’t _feel_ like it tonight.”

“At least brush your hair,” Shireen scrunched her nose, “And maybe a little chapstick.”

“I think you’re overestimating what this party is going to be like,” Myrcella informed her, “I mean… Hotpie seems sweet but… I don’t think aaaaall this is really worth it.”

The aaaaall she was referring to was Shireen’s loosely curled hair and beautiful navy blue silk slip dress that she’d paired with combat boots and made her legs look like toothpicks.

Shireen shrugged, “You never know who you’re going to meet. Wasn’t last week proof of that?”

Myrcella couldn’t really come up with anything to say to that given that she and Shireen had gone through both of their closets at least twice this week, trying to determine the perfect outfit for her date with Robb tomorrow.

That was one of the reasons she didn’t totally feel like putting in a lot of effort tonight. It was going to take a _lot_ of effort tomorrow to make it seem as though she’d hardly put in any.

“Fine, well fair enough,” Myrcella allowed, “Even still, this is what I’m wearing.”

It wasn’t like she was in pajamas or anything. She was in loose fitting jeans and one of Tommy’s white button down shirts, a pair of loafers on her feet. Her hair admittedly _did_ need a brushing, since she’d taken it down from the chignon she’d had it in for work, and her lips _were_ a little chapped, but she’d always kind of liked that look.

“Well, fine,” Shireen gave up. “I just need to brush my teeth and then we can head over. Is Tommy still here?”

“No,” Myrcella said in a distracted tone as she checked her phone. She hadn’t heard from Robb since lunch time when he’d texted her a picture of an old golden retriever he’d met, and she shoved her phone into one of the front pockets of her jeans and answered, “He went over a bit ago.”

She followed Shireen into the bathroom and they both brushed their teeth. Shireen spritzed herself with some perfume and Myrcella ducked out of the way. The scent smelled wonderful on her cousin but on her it smelled like day old garbage.

“What do we need?,” Shireen asked.

“Just keys,” Myrcella said, hooking the delicate gold chain she always wore through the top of the key and then putting it back on. It was cold against her chest but that way she didn’t have to bring a bag and she didn’t have worry about it falling out of the pocket of her jeans. “Tommy brought the cups over last night.”

“Alright,” Shireen fluffed her hair, “Let’s do this.”

Myrcella smiled and rolled her eyes. _This_ was going to last for a maximum of two hours for her and then she was going to come home, do a face mask, and take a bubble bath.

“Yes, let’s,” she agreed anyway, determined not to be accused of being grouchy.

They could hear the party in their living room. The music had been running the gamut, and at the moment there seemed to be Yunkaian trance playing.

They closed their door and she went to knock on 23B, but Shireen opened the door unceremoniously. The party was in full swing, there were twenty-somethings littered about the living room.

It looked like someone had pushed a bunch of pillows against the wall and people were dancing next to the couch and _on_ the couch. There were half eaten pizza boxes strewn about and a song from the 90s had replaced the trance music.

She’d expected it to be all twenty and twenty-one year olds, so Myrcella was surprised to see people who looked her age and older mixed in.

“I smell weed,” Shireen told her.

“Shocking,” Myrcella deadpanned.

“I’m going to find it,” Shireen noted.

“Just go grab some from our apartment,” Myrcella suggested, knowing that Tommy and Shireen took their weed _very_ seriously.

Shireen shook her head, “I’m looking for some strange.”

Myrcella cackled, “That is _not_ what that means, but go on ahead. I’ll try to find Tommy.”

Shireen nodded and bopped up. Half a dozen guys clocked her on her way through and Myrcella watched as Shireen totally ignored it. Or more accurately, was entirely _oblivious_ to it.

It was one of the reasons Myrcella believed she stayed with Harry so long. Having grown up with a scar on her cheek, being told by people, by her own _mother_ that it made her ugly, she had no idea how truly beautiful she was. She had no idea how much attention she got just by going to get her mail in the morning.

That was why she hadn’t entirely discouraged Shireen’s mild cyber-stalking of Theon Greyjoy this week. She heeded Sansa’s warning, completely. In truth he sounded little better than Harry. Even still, Theon had zeroed in on Shireen within seconds of meeting her, as though he was entranced by her, and though Myrcella didn’t think she should date him or anything, she was due for a flirtation.

Myrcella walked around the perimeter of the room. Dodging a ping pong ball flying at her and heading towards the kitchen. She was looking for Tommy, but instead there was the _last_ person she expected to see.

“Robb?,” she asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I totally had planned for the rest of the night to be included in this but it would have been SO long. I'll update soon though, promise. In the meantime, I'd love to hear what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> buckle up!

He was already smiling as he turned, he had been laughing at something the beautiful brunette sitting on the counter had said. She hated thinking it, it was so cliche, but she felt like she was on a rollercoaster, the way her emotions were swinging around. Jealousy and excitement, and then an overwhelming happiness when his smiled turned positively comical upon placing her.

“Myrcella? You came!,” he exulted, crossing towards her and picking her up in a hug.

He smelled so good, rich and warm, with that peculiar sprinkling of snow. His chest and arms felt broad and strong and she was dizzy already. Relieved too, though only mildly, as she’d had slight anxiety her feelings had been intensified by the alcohol.

“What do you mean?,” she asked as he set her down, not quite letting go of her, “This is my neighbor’s party.”

“This is my sister’s party,” Robb told her with his brow furrowed.

The brunette hopped off the counter and in an exasperated tone said, “I’m Arya Stark, your new neighbor.”

Arya _Stark_. Stark! _Stark._ The other sister.

Myrcella smiled at her, taking her in. She didn’t look a bit like either of her older siblings, who in truth could be twins. She was petite where they were both tall, and had wide, grey eyes and the best pair of eyebrows she’d ever seen.

The only thing Arya and her siblings had in common it seemed was that she too was a beauty.

“Hi, I’m Myrcella Baratheon,” she smiled, “You’ve probably met my brother Tommy?”

Arya nodded, “He’s terrible at video games.”

Myrcella laughed, “Yeah but don’t tell him that.”

“Too late,” Arya said with an _oh shit_ expression.

Myrcella laughed again and shrugged. And then looked back at Robb who still had one of his hands on the small of her back.

“Well, this is a coincidence,” she smiled.

“Something like that,” he smiled back.

“Okay I’ll be in the other room,” Arya said in an obviously disgusted tone.

Myrcella couldn’t really blame her. She and Robb were practically murmuring at one another. It was sickening, and lovely.

“So, the _other_ sister,” Myrcella smiled, “I bet their high school years were real fun.”

Robb chuckled, “They were a nightmare in more ways than one. She and Sansa -“

“Wait,” Myrcella shook her head, “Sansa was _at_ my apartment on Sunday. Did… did she set us up? I told her I was going to my next door neighbor’s party tonight…”

Robb’s brow furrowed, “No… she… she knew how ex-no. _Hmm._ Maybe. Let’s go find her.”

With a bit more enthusiasm this time she said, “Yes, let’s.”

They walked out of the kitchen and if it was possible it was like people had multiplied. Where there had once been little pockets of people, now there were just _people_. No pockets to be found.

Someone shoved into her and Robb took hold of her hand with his opposite one and then used the one closest to her to pull her gently against his side.

She sort of forgot their mission for a moment but then looked up at him, “We’ll never find her in this.”

Without warning Robb threw his head back and let out a deep howl. For a moment she thought he was absolutely batty, but then from different corners of the party she heard a string of howls erupt.

“What on earth, are you guys in a cult?,” she asked.

He chuckled and shook his head, transferring her hand into the one closest to her.

“Not quite, come on,” he urged and she followed him happily.

He was seemingly able to part the crowd and she followed easily behind. His hand felt nice around hers, large and warm and secure.

A moment later they were standing in front of Sansa and Shireen.

“J’ACCUSE!,” Robb yelled at his sister.

“MYRCELLA!,” Sansa grinned when she saw her.

“Hi you,” Myrcella grinned back.

“So, you’ll never guess,” Shireen laughed. “Remember how when we got home on Saturday night, Sansa kept shouting _AREA AREA AREA_.”

“Ohhh,” Myrcella realized, “ _Aria_.”

“You’ve met her?,” Sansa laughed, “Ask Robb, when I came into the building I was _so_ weirded out.”

Myrcella turned to look and realized her hand was still in Robb’s. If he was the least bit embarrassed by that he wasn’t showing it.

“She turned right towards your apartment,” he confirmed.

“So… Arya lives with Hotpie,” Myrcella noted.

“And Lommy,” Sansa said, far more solemnly than the name _Lommy_ really deserved.

“Right,” Myrcella nodded, equally solemn.

“Oh Sansa you have to come see Tommy, he’ll be _so_ happy to see you,” Shireen nudged.

Myrcella tried to hide her smile. Tommy practically drooled whenever Sansa’s name was mentioned.

“Ooh yes yes, just keep me away from Jon and we’ll be fine,” Sansa agreed.

“Jon’s here?,” Myrcella asked.

“Him and Arya are tight,” Robb explained.

They waved to Shireen and Sansa who were immediately enveloped by the crowd. The music was _loud_ and the guests were starting to get wild.

She was sure there would be noise complaints by some of the fuddy-duddies who lived in the building, but Myrcella had never really minded the noise of a party drifting into her apartment.

“So, you and Shireen live together I know and Tommy is your brother, right?,” Robb asked.

“Yeah, younger by a year,” she explained.

Robb nodded, “And it’s just you three?”

“Well, and Ser Pounce,” she noted.

Robb grinned widely and then tried to hide it, “Ser…Pounce?”

“Tommy’s cat,” she explained. “He was going through a real medieval phase when he got him. Don’t tell Tommy, but he likes me better.”

Robb chuckled, “Yeah I bet. I grew up with dogs, but I love cats.”

“I wish I’d grown up with dogs, but we weren’t allowed,” she told him, explaining, “Too much chaos for my mother.”

He nodded, “Yeah, Rickon - the youngest - always really wanted a cat but my Mom didn’t trust the dogs with one… It’s a shame, we all really would’ve liked one.”

Myrcella nodded and then looked up at him, “Well um… Ser Pounce loves visitors…if you want to meet him.”

Robb grinned again, “I’d love to.”

“Okay,” she smiled back, “Can you do that crowd parting thing you do?”

“You mean walking?,” he teased.

“Yeah, that,” she agreed.

He chuckled and offered her his hand, which she took with both of hers, and he lead her through the party. The way people were bumping into each other she was grateful to get a little bit of a breather, and it felt cathartic as they got out into the hallway.

“I’m just here,” she told him needlessly, letting go with one of her hands and now leading him across to her door.

She unhooked her necklace and unlocked her door, placing the gold chain down on the little table next to it.

“Well this is different,” Robb said.

She laughed and nodded. With the exception of the separate kitchen, it looked as though her and Arya’s apartments were pretty similar in terms of set up, but in terms of decor they were entirely different.

She and Shireen liked an ordered household and Tommy didn’t care either way so didn’t mind when they added girly touches in the common areas. In truth, she thought he actually even _liked_ some of it but she wouldn’t make him admit that.

“We’ve been here a couple of years,” she pointed out, “So we’ve had more time to settle in.”

Robb noted, “That lot could live here for a decade and never have coffee table books.”

She smiled and then made the little _thn-thn-thn-thn_ sound that Ser Pounce loved. Predictably, he came out of her room a moment later and wove his way through her legs.

“Hi Pouncey,” she cooed, bending down and picking him up. He purred and nuzzled his head against her cheek, and she stroked his fur softly. “This is Robb.”

“Hey,” Robb said stiffly.

“Do you want to hold him?,” she asked.

Robb shook his head, “He looks pretty comfortable.”

She laughed, “He’s a potato, he won’t mind, promise.”

With that she handed Ser Pounce to him, who really didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

Robb smiled, “He’s soft.”

And then sneezed. Ten times.

“Are you okay?,” she wondered.

Robb nodded and said, “Yeah I’m just allergic to cats.”

“But you said -,” she started and then realized how absolutely idiotic she was. “Oh you _are_ smooth, aren’t you?”

“Ve- _sneeze_ -ry,” he agreed.

She chuckled and took Ser Pounce from him, placing the cat down and then walked towards the kitchen. She grabbed him a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water and handed it to him.

He drank it gratefully and she hopped up on the kitchen counter. His eyes fell to hers as he drained it and then he placed the glass down.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said, shaking his head, “I just wanted to be alone with you for a minute… but I can now see that this whole thing might seem a little creepy.”

“ _So_ creepy,” she teased.

He smiled sheepishly, “I was just really happy to see you,” and then glanced at her warily, “Were you happy when you saw me?”

“No,” she deadpanned, and his face went ashen. She let him out of his misery, “Because you were talking to a beautiful girl…,” and what had sounded flirtatious in her mind now just sounded psychotic. “Oh god now _I_ sound creepy, don’t I?”

“ _So_ creepy,” he teased.

“I’m really not the jealous type,” she said aloud, but really to herself.

“Well,” he shrugged, “Maybe you’ve just never cared enough before.”

“Why do I… now?,” she couldn’t help but ask, “We just met.”

“I don’t know, but I do know that I tried to cut my meetings early so that I could get back here,” he said, not meeting her eyes, “So…”

“So…,” she nodded.

There was resignation in it, from both of them. That whatever it was _meant_ something and they were going to let it. They were going to just feel it, whatever it was, together. Even if it drove them crazy.

She got off the counter and looked down at herself and groaned, “You really shouldn’t be looking at me. I was going to look way better than this tomorrow.”

“Myrcella if you looked any better I might die,” he joked, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, his blue eyes staring into hers, “Still might.”

It was sudden, too sudden, but she didn’t care. She felt for him what she’d never even began to feel for Trystane.

_Excitement_. _Curiosity. Desire. Fear._

She had never been one to give in to fear so she took a small step closer to him. His eyes widened and she felt it everywhere, and then she felt his other hand on the small of her back, pulling her closer yet, as he brought the hand on her ear underneath her chin and tilted it up towards him.

His lips pressed to hers softly, and she sank against him, her hands on his shoulders. She arched her back and stood on her tip toes and their lips started wandering over one another’s.

Her hands moved up into his hair and it was as soft as she imagined it’d be. He wrapped his other arm around her back and she was suddenly walking backwards.

His tongue entered her mouth as she was being lifted, and she realized he must have set her on the back of the couch. She let one leg wrap around him as she met his tongue with her own.

He kissed her back deeply and then pulled back. There was fire in his eyes and his hand wasn’t entirely gently as he pulled her head back by her hair, but his lips were tender against her neck as he pressed warm kisses to it.

“ _Robb_ ,” she sighed.

She was pulling him, and he was supporting her back as she arched it. She wanted to be on the couch with him on top of her, to feel his weight on her. She pulled him harder to achieve it.

“Oh my god!,” they heard behind them.

She let go of Robb immediately and would have fallen if it wasn’t for his hand pressed against her back. Standing in the doorway was Shireen and ever so slightly behind her, Theon.

“Shy!,” Myrcella exclaimed. “I was just introducing Robb to Ser Pounce.”

“Oh…,” Shireen nodded, a small smirk on her face, turning to her companion, “I was just about to introduce _Theon_ to Ser Pounce.”

“Don’t you hate cats?,” Robb asked Theon at the same time that Theon said to Robb, “Dude, you’re allergic.”

Shireen’s eyes got comically wide and Myrcella covered her mouth and snorted out a laugh, burying her head in Robb’s chest. She set her leg back down and let Robb help her off the couch.

“You are such a little _shit,_ Greyjoy,” Shireen said, pinching Theon’s side.

She was about to suggest that they all go back to the party, or at the very least, that she and Robb did to give Shireen the opportunity to _introduce Theon to Ser Pounce_ , which when she thought about it she realized could be a really _really_ gross uphemism, when there was a loud knock on the door.

Shireen rolled her eyes, “As if our neighbors are coming to knock on _our_ door when the party is clearly next door. It’s probably creepy old Pycelle just _looking_ for an excuse.”

Shireen opened the door and Myrcella found herself wishing it was creepy old Pycelle. Or the building manager. Or her mother. Even Joffrey.

Anyone other than Sansa Stark with her cheeks tear stained and her broken heart exposed for all the world to see.

***

She’d lost Robb and Shireen and Myrcella. She was pretty sure she saw Theon but it was so quick that she honestly couldn’t be sure.

Arya was busy playing hostess. For all her talk of being the wild one - the title that Sansa felt truly belonged to Rickon anyway - Arya had a bit of her mother in her as well. She’d seen her putting out more bowls of chips, grabbing beers for people, wiping up a spilled drink, escorting a drunk girl to the bathroom.

Sansa had tried to be helpful as well, not wanting her younger sister to wake up with a miserable hangover and then have an atrocious time cleaning up. Even still, there were only so many times she could walk to the kitchen to get paper towels before it began to feel a bit futile.

While at the beginning of the party she had been able to place more people than not, now it was the opposite. It was bizarre that she hadn’t seen Myrcella or Shireen, she’d been hoping for a repeat of last week, perhaps _without_ the debilitating hangover.

Hoping to at least get Robb or Theon she threw her head back and howled. She heard a lone howl back and crossed towards that direction. It had sounded a bit like Theon, and even though he was a total pain in the ass, he was a loyal one and she knew she’d have a good time with him.

People were getting a bit wild, and she had been shoved and jostled more than her liking. She continued towards the sound, finally getting annoyed enough that she shouldered against someone and before she knew it she was standing right in front of him.

Except it wasn’t Theon. The acoustics in here were terrible.

“Hey,” Jon smiled with those sad eyes of his that always made her want to take hold of his hand.

“Oh,” she shook her head, “I was looking for Robb. Have you seen him?”

Jon nodded, scratching his cheek, “Yeah he left with Myrcella a few minutes ago.” He grinned, “They’re looking pretty loved up.”

She nodded, “Okay, thanks.”

It didn’t matter that Robb and Myrcella were probably looking lovingly into each other’s eyes. Robb would be a little frustrated with her but he’d understand if she barged in on them. Myrcella too, she had a feeling, wouldn’t _really_ mind. It was an emergency after all.

She headed towards the door and then felt a hand on her arm pulling her into the coat closet she didn’t know that Arya had.

“What the fuck?,” she asked.

The light was turned on and it was Jon in there with her, which she knew even in the dark. She could _smell_ him. Him. _Him_.

“Sansa,” he breathed. He was so close. He’d let go of her but it didn’t matter. She could feel him everywhere, the way she’d been able to ever since before she knew what crushes were. “We need to talk.”

“We _have_ talked, Jon,” she argued. “We talked last Sunday and the night before apparently and when you first came home. You don’t want to talk you just want me to _forgive_ you. You don’t actually want to hear what I have to say.”

“That makes two of us then, doesn’t it?,” he laughed softly, harshly.

“Yes, it does. You’re right, I _don’t_ want to talk to you and you are the only one who seems to find that confusing,” she informed him.

He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head, “I’m not confused by it. I just… I want to change it. Tell me what I can do to _change_ your mind.”

“No,” she argued, “ _No_. I’m not doing this with you, not again. I waited for you to be ready for… for _years_. It broke my heart _every day_ seeing you with Ygritte. And then… no NO. I’m not doing it, I’m not, please just, please just leave me alone.”

She wasn’t sure when she started crying but she now couldn’t seem to stop. She felt weak and exhausted already and she couldn’t stand to be so close to him, not when she needed him, wanted him so badly. Her stupid, stubborn heart.

She hated Harry Hardyng for being a dick. If he had been half-decent maybe she could have just fallen for him and she could have stopped feeling like _this_. Sansa would give _anything_ just to not feel like _this._

She’d take heartbreak a hundred different ways if it just wasn’t this one.

“Okay,” Jon said softly, like he was speaking to a rabid animal, “Fuck, okay. I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone.”

Now that she was sure he wouldn’t stop her she opened the door to the closet and shoved her way through the rest of the party to the front door and opened it. The hallway wasn’t empty, there was a couple making out against the elevator buttons.

She passed by them and knocked on 23A and she didn’t even see who opened it before she barged in.

To her surprise it wasn’t just Robb and Myrcella in there, but Theon and Shireen too. They were all looking at her like a wounded little bird and she hated it.

So she started crying all over again.

“Oh Dovey,” Theon and Robb said practically in tandem, both stepping towards her.

Theon got to her first and she let him hug her, but it felt wrong. Jon was one of his best friends. As much as he might love her, he loved Jon too. He couldn’t hate him, and she couldn’t ask him to.

She hugged him back for a minute but then pulled out of his arms. Robb was standing right there, his arms braced as though ready to catch her.

“Come on, Dovey,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”

She knew she should let him. He was her brother and he loved her and she really should just be at home in bed, crying by herself. But she didn’t want to. She was so _tired_ of crying by herself or to people with divided loyalties.

“Can I stay?,” she asked Myrcella, who was still standing at a safe distance.

“Of course you can,” she agreed without question. Then turned to Shireen, “Can you go grab some pajamas for her?”

“Of course,” Shireen agreed, just as Myrcella had and then crossed briefly and kissed Theon on the cheek. “Night Greyjoy.”

“But I want to stay…,” Theon said, and to his credit she knew it only had a little to do with Shireen.

“Sorry,” Myrcella shook her head, “Girls night,” then turned to Robb, “You too. Both of you _out_.”

“But-,” Robb started.

Myrcella stood on her tiptoes and kissed his lips briefly, “I can’t wait to hear the rest of that argument _tomorrow_. Goodniiiight.”

Robb sighed but kissed Myrcella’s cheek and patted Theon on the back.

“Call me if you need me, Dovey,” Robb said, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “And Arya’s right next door.”

She nodded, though it was curious. He was telling her to reach out to a Stark, the way generations of Starks always had in times of need. The pack survives and all that. But Jon was a _part_ of the pack, that was the problem wasn’t it? And Robb was cautioning her against leaning on the very woman he was falling for.

“Yeah,” she nodded, “Night Robby.”

Robb and Theon left the apartment, closing the door behind them, and a moment later Shireen came back in holding a pair of flannel pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt.

“These are the coziest things I own,” Shireen informed her proudly, handing them to her.

“You can change in my room,” Myrcella offered. Then asked, “Can I put on the kettle?”

Sansa nodded, “Chamomile if you have it, thank you.”

She then went into Myrcella’s bedroom. It was just as ordered as the last time she’d been there, with the huge window and the feminine comforter. Sansa changed quickly and placed her clothes on the small desk chair and walked back into the common room.

Myrcella and Shireen were already changed into pajamas as well, though she wasn’t exactly sure how, and Shireen was settling onto the couch as Myrcella pulled down three mugs.

Sansa went over to Myrcella, “Can I help with anything?”

Myrcella shook her head, “No go get cozy, I’ll bring these over in a minute. Are you hungry?”

“No,” Sansa said truthfully, wondering if she’d feel better if she ate some fries. “Thanks.”

She walked back over to the couch and sat on the other end of the couch Shireen was sitting on. Wordlessly, Shireen lifted the blanket she was using and Sansa got underneath as well.

“How did you get over Harry?,” Sansa asked.

Shireen was silent for a moment and said, “I’m not sure that I am. Honestly. You know I wish I could be, because he’s such an ass but…”

“Yeah, I hear you,” she agreed.

“B-,” Shireen started to say but they were interrupted by the kettle whistling.

Sansa hopped up and walked over as Myrcella was filling the first mug.

“Chamomile,” Myrcella said by way of presentation.

“Thank you,” Sansa took the mug gratefully.

She stood there as Myrcella filled the other two: jasmine and mint, respectively. They walked back over to the couches together and Myrcella handed Shireen the mug with mint tea. Sansa settled back underneath the blanket and Myrcella took a spot on the other couch, sitting down and wrapping a blanket around herself in one graceful motion.

“Sorry that I ruined your night,” she offered stupidly.

“You didn’t,” they said in tandem and then looked at each other and laughed.

Myrcella turned back to her with a sorry expression, “I should have stayed with you guys when you told me Jon was there. I just… I was excited to see Robb, I’m sorry.”

Sansa smiled, “Don’t be. It’s nice to see him like that.”

A different sort of girl might ask her if it happened often. If there was a different girl at family dinner’s every few weeks. What his last girlfriend was like. If she could trust him.

Myrcella just smiled softly, contentedly. Sansa couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever had her heart broken.

“I know you told Shireen a bit of what happened,” Myrcella said. Then shook her head, glancing at her cousin, “She didn’t tell me anything but… do you want to talk about? We don’t have to, we can just turn on a girly movie or a horror movie or whatever but… I don’t know… maybe it’d help. It doesn’t seem like you do very often…”

Sansa sipped her tea. It was the good stuff, the kind her Mom always had and gave her when she had an upset stomach or a bad day at school.

It was the kind Sansa had made for her Mom at her father’s wake. And the one that went cold sitting beside her every day the week after.

“So about nine months ago, my Dad died,” she started.

“Oh Sansa,” Myrcella said, “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Sansa said and then shook her head, “But I guess that’s not where it really starts. You see, Jon has always been _around_. His Mom was friends with my Dad growing up and they were sort of just part of the family, you know? Jon and Robb practically grew up as brothers - best friends, rivals, that whole thing. And the kids, my younger brothers and Arya, looked up to him, you know? The way they looked up to Robb. But we were never close. He was always _there_ , so we were close in proximity which is just…”

“Confusing,” Myrcella offered.

“A recipe for disaster?,” Shireen added.

Sansa smiled, “Yeah a bit of both really.” She shook her head, “Anyway, you’ve seen him so it shouldn’t be surprising that I sort of had a crush on him…”

“Not surprising at all, I mean, _mother may I_ ,” Myrcella shook her head and then her eyes went wide and she blushed, “I say as a supportive friend and also the girl who wants to date your brother.”

Sansa laughed, “At ease, soldier. Yeah so, I sort of first remember it when I was thirteen. I was having a boy-girl birthday party, my first one. It was a pool party and Jon was there and he… he just looked like a _man_ and all the other boys looked so… anyway I guess from there it just sort of spiraled. I wrote about him in my diary for godsake.”

Shireen jumped in, “There is _no_ shame in that.”

“Anyway, he was older right and I was just Robb’s little sister, and sort of gangly and awkward,” Sansa went on.

“ _You_? You were gangly and awkward?,” Myrcella asked. “You’re a supermodel. Those _legs_.”

“Serves him _right_ ,” Shireen agreed. “There is nothing I like more than a vengeful glow-up.”

“Amen,” Myrcella agreed, her hand to God.

Sansa laughed, “Yeah well he got me too… Anyway he started dating this girl, Ygritte. She was a bit wild, part of Jon’s _angsty rebellious_ phase. No one thought it would last. But it did. For _years_.”

“That must have been so hard to see,” Myrcella sympathized.

“It was,” Sansa agreed and then shook her head, “But then it wasn’t, you know? I mean… it’s not like I kept myself locked in my room or anything. I had a life, friends, I dated. But no one ever got to me quite like he did. I would be at university and think I’d forgotten about him and then I’d come home and he’d just be there, all floppy hair and second-day scruff and those eyes and I would just fall right back in it.”

“Did you ever get hints he might feel the same way?,” Myrcella asked gently.

Sansa had spent a lot of time fighting that, “You know how it is… when you feel that way about someone you can convince yourself of anything. There would be days where I’d float on a cloud from the way he’d said my name when he greeted me, and there’d be other days where I’d imagine he wouldn’t notice if he never saw me again. There were moments so innocuous that I could turn them into almost anything.”

“An overactive mind is the most dangerous companion for a lonely heart,” Myrcella agreed.

Sansa looked at her, really looked. Maybe she’d misjudged. Maybe she’d been fooled by the content smile and the golden hair, because that certainly sounded like someone whose heart had been broken a time or two.

“Yeah, it is,” she agreed. “Anyway, about eight months after I moved back here, Jon and Ygritte broke up. As far as I could tell it had been his decision but he wouldn’t really talk about it. He was going out a lot with Robb and Theon and I started seeing him more, because those two idiots had taken it upon themselves to make me love the North again. And we became friends in a way we never really had been before. You know I’d spent all that time wanting him, I’d never really wondered if I _knew_ him.”

“Yeah,” Shireen nodded. Sansa looked at her and Shireen shrugged, “Wanting sort of makes you forget about the knowing of it all.”

“Is that what happened with you and Harry?,” Sansa wondered.

“I think so,” Shireen said. Then pointed accusingly at Myrcella, “This one never went through an awkward phase. But I did… I remember what it’s like to have no one want you, to always be the one wanting. It’s easy to glorify things you think you can never have.”

“I had braces, Shy,” Myrcella pointed out in an annoyed tone.

“For six months when you were twelve, El,” Shireen snapped, as though she’d been prepared for this very line of defense.

“Joff called me braceface until I was fifteen,” Myrcella said, setting down her tea and crossing her arms a bit petulantly. Sansa tried to hide her smile.

“Joff is an undiagnosed SOCIOPATH,” Shireen argued and then rolled her eyes, turning back to Sansa, “The point is… I get it.”

Sansa looked at Myrcella who nodded, “Go on.”

“So a few months after Ygritte and Jon broke up, my Dad was involved in a hit and run accident,” Sansa said all at once, because it was still too fresh to really talk about.

She remembered the hospital. The doctor’s hushed tones. The lawyers. The casseroles. A black dress and snow boots. Winter roses on the casket.

Rickon’s confusion, Bran’s silence, Arya’s anger, Robb’s strength.

“That must be so hard for you all,” Myrcella lamented.

“It was,” Sansa said then shook her head, “It is. My Mom most of all, I think. You know, they’d been together most of her life and my Dad was just her rock. He was all of our rocks really. He was made of solid granite. But my Mom took it really hard and there was so much to do. The funeral and the just _everything_. And Robb was doing so much, he was taking care of everything, of all of us. I tried to help as much as I could but… well anyway, on the day of the funeral everyone came back to my house. My mom couldn’t really… you know it was just really… so anyway I tried to sort of see to the smaller details and at one point it just got to be too much. I guess I hadn’t really cried since the first night, you know, and I could feel myself breaking and I didn’t want to do that in front of anyone so I went up to my room. I hadn’t lived there in years but it was just the same. My Dad was _everywhere._ He’d made the furniture with his bare hands. And I just sort of _broke_. Jon came to check on me, I think Robb must have sent him. And he saw me and he just took hold of me, anchored me and just let me cry. And then we were kissing.” She stopped and looked at them, they both wore faces of concern and curiosity, “I know it sounds silly to say, but I honestly can’t remember who kissed who. That’s the sort of thing you’re suppose to remember, isn’t it?”

Myrcella and Shireen looked at one another, communicating silently.

Myrcella shrugged and offered gently, “Maybe it’s enough to remember how it made you feel.”

Sansa wiped a tear, “That I’ll never forget. I had slept with boys before, but it had never been like that. It was just… need, pure and simple. We just got lost in each other.” She shook her head, “I was afraid that he’d regret it in the morning but when we woke up he reached for me again. We were all staying at the house, you know, and for that week it was just… the most peculiar mix of grief and elation.”

“Oh my god,” Shireen cried.

Sansa looked at her and to her immense surprise, tears were falling out of Shireen’s eyes.

“Get it to _gether_ , Shy,” Myrcella admonished.

Shireen shook her head, “I _can’t_. Her _Dad_ died and he was just- and they were just…and _oh go-o-o-od._ ”

“For fuck’s sake, I thought you’d heard this story already,” Myrcella sighed and then crossed over to their couch and pulled her sobbing cousin into her arms. Shireen leaned her cheek against Myrcella’s chest and Myrcella stroked her hair, “Shh shh it’s okay,” and then looked at Sansa sympathetically, “You can go on, she’ll be alright.”

Sansa was sort of unconvinced, but she so rarely told this story that it was starting to feel good, cathartic to do so.

“So after that week my Mom sort of pulled it together,” Sansa said, “She shooed us all away. Jon, Robb and I. Even Theon had been coming over after work. She sent us all back to the city. Jon lived closer to me, that was the excuse he gave Robb when he’d offered to drive me back to my apartment. In spite of myself I was excited. But… he didn’t even seem to want to come upstairs.”

Myrcella turned to her, her eyes wide, and asked softly, “Why?”

“Because he was leaving,” Sansa said hollowly.

“He was _what?,_ ” Shireen asked angrily, wrestling out of Myrcella’s arms.

“He was put on an assignment for work,” she explained. “Down South. I was upset, of course, you know we’d just started and everything with my Dad was so fresh and I just needed him… I needed him like a fool.” Myrcella took her hand and Sansa squeezed it. “And I probably said some stupid things, I pushed him away, I guess. And he told me that maybe it was for the best. That he wasn’t what I needed, and the sooner I learned that the better. I got out and slammed the door, hoping he’d get out after me, but he didn’t. He just left. He left the next day.” Myrcella squeezed her hand, “I learned from Robb that the assignment got extended. It was another week before Jon bothered to tell me. He was going to be gone six months.” She shook her head, “About two months into it, this woman showed up on his social media again and again. They were together. He was in love with her.”

She heard a sob welling up next to her and she looked, expecting to see Shireen losing it again, but to her immense surprise it was Myrcella.

“El?,” Shireen asked.

“It’s just _s-s-s-soo-oo-oo unfair_ ,” Myrcella cried hysterically.

“Oh my god,” Sansa cried, “I _broke_ you.”

“ _H-ho-w could he love her?_ ,” Myrcella asked.

“She’s beautiful,” Sansa shrugged.

“WHO IS SHE?,” Shireen cry-yelled.

“It doesn’t matter,” Sansa pointed out.

“I hate him,” Myrcella seethed, wiping her eyes angrily. “I hate _him_.”

“Me too,” Shireen said stubbornly.

Sansa broke, either from telling the story or from the unexpected loyalty of the Baratheon girls.

“Can you teach me how to?,” she wondered.

“Yes,” they both said vehemently.

“But first,” Myrcella said and then tugged her across her body.

Sansa found herself being wrapped in a mess of slender limbs, their heads on either shoulder, and she leaned into them, allowing herself to be comforted by these strange, wonderful women.

“Maybe it was supposed to happen,” she offered. “Otherwise, I never would have met you guys…”

“Oh my god,” Myrcella sobbed again.

“Why would you even _say_ that?,” Shireen cried.

“Never leave us,” Myrcella breathed.

Sansa wasn’t entirely sure that they’d be able to help her hate Jon Snow, but maybe they’d be able to do something better.

Maybe they’d help her to remember how to love herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this one took the dickens out of me so I'd love to hear what you all think


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay so this is all Robbcella, next chapter will have more of our usual suspects. hope you enjoy xx

“Hold still,” Shireen ordered.

“I _can’t_ ,” Myrcella dismayed.

“Well if you don’t hold still you’re going to get lipstick on your nose,” Shireen noted.

Myrcella took a deep breath, “Okay. I’m ready.”

As though Shireen was aware that this could change at any moment, she quickly did the swipes of lipstick and then presented a tissue for Myrcella to use to blot her lips.

They’d woken to full blown autumn in a way they hadn’t quite expected. Even after a few years up North they still weren’t used to the way the seasons changed so quickly, how they could be wearing sandals one day and scarves another.

This change in the seasons had dramatically changed the _look_ she was going for. Whereas she’d originally planned to get a very neutral color on her nails, Sansa and Shireen had advised her on the trip to the salon that a deep burgundy would be perfect for the sudden chill in the air.

Her lipstick, too, was that shade, and rather than the ultra feminine light blue high waisted skirt she’d been planning, she now found herself in a swingy sleeveless mock turtleneck black dress, black tights, and ankle boots, with a cropped patterned blazer she intended to put over it.

Shireen had made her sit with her hair in curlers on the couch all afternoon, so her mod pony tail had a vintage bounce to it. She’d brushed perfume through her hair and dabbed a little more on her wrists, even a touch between her thighs when Shireen wasn’t looking.

“Alright, you’re obnoxiously perfect,” Shireen determined.

Myrcella turned towards her mirror and smiled. She hated to wear a lot of make up, but Shireen had done a great job. She looked done without appearing overdone, and the blotting had given her lips a stained rather than painted appearance, like she’d eaten too many berries.

“Thank you,” she said, swiping her chapstick across her lips.

She stood up and tightened her ponytail and made sure her tights weren’t drooping and that her dress was falling correctly. She looked over at Shireen, who was wearing a pair of boxer shorts and chunky high socks, and one of Tommy’s sweatshirts.

“What are _you_ doing tonight?,” she asked.

“Enjoying you and Tommy being _out_ ,” Shireen informed her. “I’m just going to order take out and watch reality shows and it is going to be GREAT.”

Myrcella laughed and nodded, “Yes, I know how we cramp your style.”

Shireen stepped forward and hugged her and Myrcella hugged her back.

“Remember everything,” Shireen made her promise as she hugged her. “Every detail, every joke.”

Myrcella rested her chin on Shireen’s tiny shoulder, “Promise.” Then reminded her, “Next week it’ll be you.”

“I know,” Shireen agreed, squeezing her tightly briefly and then releasing her. She smiled, “But for tonight it is _you_ and the outrageously perfect Robb Stark. So enjoy that and don’t think about me once.”

Myrcella opened her mouth to say something but they heard a knock on the front door.

“Okay,” Shireen whispered, “I’m going to my room, have _fun_.”

Myrcella kissed her cheek and then turned away. Shireen smacked her butt and then raced towards her bedroom, stopping Breakfast Club style.

She grabbed her bag and went to the front door. Her knees went weak upon opening it. Robb looked gorgeous in dark jeans and a light blue button down, a soft looking brown suede jacket on.

“Myrcella! Wow you lo-,” he started but she couldn’t help it.

She stepped towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck, aided by her high heeled boots, and pressed her lips to his. He sunk against her immediately, his arms wrapping around her waist and turning her all at once so that her back ended up against the doorway.

He kissed her in that slow, deep way of his that made her insides gooey and her heart busy.

“Stunning,” he finished as he released her lips briefly and then kissed her again.

“So do you,” she told him, wiping his lips of some of her lipstick. “Brings out my forwardness, I suppose.”

He grinned, his teeth as white as pearls, “Thank god for that.”

He kissed her again, one long, close mouthed kiss that told her that he was right there with her, and then released her.

“It’s chilly out, especially for a southerner like you, do you have a coat?,” he asked.

“I resent that cloaked dig,” she told him primly, walking towards her coat closet and grabbing out her jacket.

“It wasn’t that cloaked,” he teased, but took hold of the jacket and held it out for her.

She turned around and eased one arm through it and then the other, and couldn’t help but smile when he leaned in close.

“Mmm you smell good,” he informed her.

“Thanks,” she said, but it came out like a laugh because he’d just pressed a cheeky kiss behind her ear.

She grabbed her bag and hung it on her shoulder and then took his offered hand. He didn’t let go of her as they got in the elevator and instead interlaced their fingers and rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.

“So,” she said, “Where are we heading? Bank heist?”

He’d been very secretive about where he was taking her. Sansa seemed to know though and had approved of her updated wardrobe decision. On the phone she’d asked him for some place quiet, so that they could talk, so she knew he wouldn’t take her to some sceney restaurant.

Not that it would really matter, because he was right. There was very little that could distract her from him either.

“DMV,” he noted.

“Oh good, I need to get my trucking license renewed,” she nodded.

The air was even cooler than it had been when she and Shireen had gotten back from the nail salon. Winter would come quickly that year, it seemed, and she buttoned her blazer all the way up to her chin.

She was about to look for a taxi to hail when Robb said, “My car’s just here.”

“You have a car in the city?,” she asked.

None of her friends did, Wintertown had such a great public transportation system and there were taxis on every street. Even Trystane who liked to talk about all the cars he had down South didn’t have one in the city. He’d always rent some top of the line one if they were doing weekends in the country, but that was about it.

“Yeah, I grew up here, remember?,” he asked.

“Riiight,” she nodded, supposing that made sense.

“And it was uh, my Dad’s,” he mentioned almost as an afterthought as he opened the door for her.

Before she could say anything he was closing her door and walking around to the other side. It was a nice car, a deep grey luxury SUV a few years past its prime but still in great condition.

Something told her he’d drive it until the wheels fell off.

“So,” he said as he got in the driver’s seat and turned on the car, “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Starved,” she admitted.

He pulled out of his parking spot and onto the road and started taking them north.

“How was Arya today? Tommy didn’t get in until eight o’clock this morning,” she told him.

Robb chuckled, “Yeah she finally texted me back at 4 o’clock saying _brb dying_ and that was about it.”

The party had raged on until the wee hours. Tommy had come back drunk as a skunk, with no shirt and _if lost, call Lommy_ written on his back in permanent ink. He’d greatly enjoyed her, Shireen and Sansa making a big fuss out of him, they who had all woken early after having gone to bed free of tears and full of tea, and had been tucked into bed around 9 am after taking aspirin, drinking three cups of water and eating six pancakes.

“Yikes,” she smiled.

“She’ll probably head back out tonight,” Robb said.

“Yeah Tommy had already left,” she laughed.

“I’m not sure why twenty-two year olds recover so much easier than twenty-six year olds,” Robb shook his head as he turned down another street.

“Face it, Stark,” she said solemnly, “We’re past our prime.”

He adopted a serious tone as well, “Now all that’s left for us is to age gracefully.”

She giggled and leaned back against the seat, enjoying being driven. His hands were relaxed but capable on the steering wheel and she felt very safe as he weaved his way through the crowded streets.

“I can’t remember the last time I sat in the front seat of a car,” she realized.

“City girl,” he noted. “When was the last time you drove? Something other than the truck, of course.”

She scrunched her nose, “I’m not sure. University maybe? I’ve never really driven much, not even down south.”

“Yeah I’m going to go out on a limb and guess your family had a driver,” he ventured.

She blushed, “Is it that obvious?”

He chuckled, “ _Yes,_ ” and then looked at her, “But that’s alright. We’ll get you driving on dirt roads in no time.”

“Someone should warn the deer,” she sighed.

He grinned as he started to parallel park. He did it in one smooth motion, didn’t have to stop and change his angles.

“Maybe you can teach me that first,” she noted.

“Sounds like our second date really _should_ be at the DMV,” he teased as he shut off the car.

Her stomach did a little flip flop at the mention of a second date, and she unbuckled her seat belt and opened the car door.

Robb came around to her side as she was closing it and offered her his hand.

Trystane would have made a big show of opening the door for her and ushering her inside, but Robb grabbed the door and then held her to his side briefly as an older couple exited.

“Thank you, dear,” the woman said.

“Of course, ma’am,” Robb offered respectfully rather than ostentatiously, “Enjoy your night.”

“A bit less than _you_ ,” the man teased after glancing at her.

“George!,” the woman admonished, pushing him forward in spite of the fact that he seemed to be supporting her.

She blushed and giggled and Robb chuckled, placing his hand on the small of her back and bringing her in out of the cold. It was nice and warm inside and the air smelled of butter and rosemary and _home_.

Not her home, but someone’s.

It was a fairly small space, and tables seemed to be almost haphazardly strewn about. There was no _prime table_ and the chairs were all mismatched. There was a steady hum of conversation and laughter but it wasn’t loud either.

It was exactly what she’d have asked for if she’d only known it existed.

“What is this place?,” she wondered.

“Nan’s,” Robb told her, “It’s a pretty spe-“

“Robb Stark get your butt over here,” an older woman ordered from across the room.

Robb’s ears went pink but he crossed through the restaurant, weaving them around tables until they were standing in front of the woman. Her presence was commanding in spite of her small stature, and her long grey hair was braided and wrapped around her head like a crown.

“Hi Nan,” he greeted her.

“Hi baby,” she melted, now that he was standing in front of her. She took his cheeks in her hands, that were withered but still strong looking, and pulled his face down to hers so that she could kiss him on both cheeks. “How you doing? Are you hungry? How’s your Mom?”

“Good, Nan. She’s good, yeah we’re starving,” he answered her out of order and all at once.

“Okay you sit down I’m going to bring you some bread, alright, just out of the oven,” she told him, smacking his cheek and walking away.

“Is that your grandmother?,” she wondered as the woman walked away.

“No, uh, but she might as well be,” he answered, his cheeks a deep, gorgeous pink. “Sorry I’ll introduce you when she comes back if she lets me.”

She smiled, “Let’s sit.”

There didn’t seem to be any hostess so he lead her over to one of the small banquettes against the wall. It didn’t have a chair on the other side of the table so they both sat on the booth and Robb pulled off his jacket and placed it down beside him.

A moment later, Nan came over with a big loaf of brown bread that still had steam rising from it and placed it down on the table with whipped butter, something that looked like apricot preserves, and a small bowl of salt.

“Are you a vegetarian?,” Nan asked her.

“No…ma’am,” Myrcella answered.

“Allergies?,” Nan asked.

“None,” Myrcella shook her head.

“Good choice, Robb, I’ll be back soon,” Nan informed them and left.

She turned to Robb, “So there is no menu, I take it?”

He shook his head, his eyes wide. She smiled at him and he grinned back.

“Kind of a weird first date spot, huh?,” he asked.

“Yeah kind of,” she agreed. She leaned in and kissed his cheek, “Thanks for bringing me here.”

His hand found hers and he took hold of it and rested it on top of her crossed legs.

“Robb,” she sighed.

“Yes?,” he asked.

“There is nothing in this world I want to do more than hold your hand all night,” she informed him and his surprised grin nearly brought tears to her eyes, but she still told him, “ _Except_ eat that bread.”

His jaw dropped and then he let out that deep chuckle. He released her hand and started cutting them bread, and they got to work doctoring it to their specifications.

He slathered his with butter and the apricots and she put a healthy bit of a butter and a sprinkling of salt on hers and ripped off a chunk and popped it in her mouth. It was warm and soft, the rye was cut perfectly with the sweetness of the butter and the little bit of salt rounded it all out.

“Oh my god,” she groaned.

Robb had already polished off his piece and was cutting himself another.

“Yeah, I know,” he agreed, “This’ll make it easier for me to tell you that she doesn’t serve alcohol.”

“Who wants alcohol? Put this butter in a glass,” she said, ripping off another chunk of hers.

“Try this,” he pushed the apricots towards her.

She took a little bit with the apricots and it melted onto her mouth. It was sweet and there was some warmth to it, cloves maybe, and it all but crackled on the tongue.

“So much better than a bank heist,” she informed him.

“I hoped you’d think that,” he grinned, pouring them large glasses of ice water.

She chewed on her piece of bread and glanced over at him, wondering what was on and off limits to talk about.

“So obviously you come here a lot,” she ventured and then asked, “With your family?”

“Yeah,” he said, taking a sip of water, “We’ve been coming here for forever. Nan actually used to babysit for my Dad and Uncles… so um… we always came here a lot. For sunday dinners or special occasions or you know um… just because.”

“So much history,” she realized, looking around at the space.

“Yeah, when you said somewhere quiet I thought of here immediately. It’s not like secluded or anything but… Nan’ll leave us the keys and let us lock up if we want to keep sitting here,” he grinned.

“It’s perfect, really,” she promised. And admitted, “I’m… surprised you brought me here, though.”

“It’s definitely not the place I’d bring an every day sort of date,” he agreed, and then looked at her and shrugged, “I just don’t see any point in pretending you’re an every day sort of girl.”

She nodded, and said, “Then I hope you don’t mind… Sansa told me about your Dad. I’m… I’m so sorry. And I’m sorry to bring it up on a date but being _here_ … I just didn’t feel right not saying anything.”

His eyes crinkled at the sides, “Yeah I figured she might, and if she hadn’t I was going to. Thank you. It’s been hard, but we’re doing okay. Mostly thanks to Sansa.”

She smiled gently, “You know, that’s exactly what she said about you.”

He shook his head, “No I didn’t do enough.”

“Can I let you in on a little secret that I’ve learned in my time?,” she asked. He nodded. “It’s always the people who are doing the most that think they aren’t doing enough. No one else gives it much thought.”

She watched as he listened to her and then thought about what she’d said. It was crazy but in all her years of dating she’d never seen a man do that before.

“I suppose you’re right about that,” he agreed.

“You probably don’t like to talk about it,” she realized, “But it sounds like you were really busy being strong for everyone else, and if you ever wanted to talk about it… you could talk to me.”

“Myrcella Baratheon,” he shook his head, “Savior of broken-hearted Starks.” She raised her eyebrow at him and he went on, “I was worried about Sansa last night, but she said you really helped.”

Myrcella smiled, “I _love_ her.”

He chuckled, “Yeah I’d say it’s mutual. I wish she’d feel comfortable talking to me about it but… uh Jon I mean, but if she isn’t I’m glad she has you and Shireen.”

She nodded, “I just think she wants to spare you from it, because you’re Jon’s best friend and all. I think she doesn’t want to tarnish your opinion of him.”

Robb took a sip of water and tilted his head as though arguing with himself, “Yeah maybe.”

“You don’t agree?,” she wondered.

“I’m sure that’s part of it,” he allowed and then went further, “I’ll even bet that’s why she thinks she’s doing it. I’m just not convinced.”

“Oh,” she said. Then shook her head, “I’m sorry, no, what do you mean?”

“I mean that Sansa’s stubborn, almost as stubborn as Jon is, and both of them have their sides of how things happened and I’m just not so sure that either of them are willing to give up their stories just yet,” he explained.

“And what on earth is _Jon’s_ side of the story?,” she wondered. “I’d _love_ to hear how he justifies _his_ behavior. I mean come _on_ , it’s not exactly like it’s an original story, he just did what any number of guys do to beautiful girls, which is take advantage of their emotions and then leave as soon as they get what they want and honestly I’m sorry I know he’s your best friend but I would _think_ you’d hate the guy that did that to your little sister especially when you think about the-“

“Woah, woah, woah, sweetheart, calm down,” Robb spoke to her in a soothing voice.

She ignored the pitter-pattering of her heart when he called her sweetheart and she sat back and placed her hands in her lap.

“He broke her heart,” she said as calmly as she was able.

Robb looked deep in her eyes and she could see it, the anger in his heart about that fact.

He reached forward and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, “I’m not saying he didn’t. I’m just saying that he broke his too.”

“Don’t do that,” she pleaded.

“Do what?,” he wondered.

“Make me feel bad for him,” she said, “It’ll make hating him a lot harder.”

“I’m sorry,” he shook his head, “I’m going to do just about everything in my power to make you not hate him. I… I love how much you and Sansa get along and how loyal you are to her, and I don’t want to get in the way of that. But… I’d like for you to give Jon a chance. It’s important to me, I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

“This loyalty you have to him, after everything that happened,” she wondered, “Does it say more about you, or more about him?”

His face went blank for a moment and then he shook his head, “I honestly don’t know.”

She liked that he didn’t lie. That he didn’t make excuses. That he thought about what she asked and didn’t feel the need to polish his answer before he gave it.

She liked that he loved his sister and his friends and that he was navigating the intricacies of that with more grace than she might attempt.

She liked that he’d brought her here and the way his lips felt on hers and the way he was looking at her right now.

She liked him, plain and simple, and she got the feeling he didn’t make requests very often.

So she said, “For your sake, I’ll give him a chance.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“But Robb?,” she asked, needing to make it clear to him, “For Sansa’s sake? It’s his last chance.”

He stroked her cheek with his thumb, “Thanks for that too.”

*

Dinner was delicious. There had been duck and lamb and crispy potatoes and salad dressing she’d liked so much that Nan had given her a jar of it as they walked out of the restaurant.

They’d talked about his siblings, and about what it had been like growing up in the north rather than the south. They talked about their jobs and their friends and the show she was obsessed with that he hadn’t gotten around to seeing.

He told her more about his Dad and about how close he’d been with Jon. How Jon didn’t have a Dad of his own and so Ned had treated him like one of his kids. She told him about Uncle Jaime, and how he’d always been more of a father to her than her own had, and how lost she’d feel without him, and she admitted that the grief might make her do things she usually wouldn’t.

They talked about this and that and a hundred other things and she felt full without having over eaten and drunk without drinking a sip.

So when he pulled up in front of her building she’d pointed to an extra parking spot.

“We don’t have to rush anything,” he told her.

He sounded so earnest that she didn’t feel like teasing him for being presumptuous.

She turned towards him, leaning her cheek against the back of her seat and asked softly, “Does it feel rushed?”

His eyes roamed over her and he let out a deep breath, his voice like gravel, “No.”

“Do you want to come up?,” she wondered, realizing it might be her that was presumptuous.

He smiled, his voice still deep and grainy but with a teasing lilt, “Yes.”

She laughed nervously and they got out of the car and walked hand in hand into her building and onto the elevator. They heard sounds coming from Arya’s apartment but they didn’t rush to her door because neither of them were embarrassed by what was happening between them or about to.

She let them in and the apartment was seemingly empty, and she took him by the hand and brought him into her bedroom.

She didn’t bother telling him that she never did this, _no really I never do_ , and it didn’t matter because he took her in his arms like he didn’t care whether he was the first and a little bit like he wanted to be the last.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all Sansa! Hope you enjoy

Saturday night, all alone.

_You’d think I’d be used to it by now._

She’d had a nice day at least. She, Shireen and Myrcella had woken up early, in time to see Tommy come home completely hammered. He’d been adorably grateful as they made him pancakes and forced him to drink water and even when he’d tried to hit on her it had been cute because it was _Tommy_.

They’d then gotten dressed and Myrcella had changed her total spa package to three manicures and they’d sat and talked about mindless things, the way you always needed to after a night of deep confessions, and had gone for a long leisurely lunch and then she’d left them to give Myrcella time to get ready for her date.

Sansa had yet to see a crack in her confidence, but it was clear even still how much this date meant to her. It actually made Sansa feel guilty, how often she conflated self-doubt with caring. It was so easy to do, for it to feel as though you were dying from need when in actuality it was your sense of self draining from you.

Myrcella though was excited without seeming manic, nervous without feeling inadequate. She cared, so much, but she cared bout herself too.

It was kind of inspiring - and depressing that it was.

She’d dawdled on her way home, stopping in a few boutiques that she liked. She’d bought a few things, a new pair of earrings, a pair of booties, a navy blue silky dress that made her hair shine like copper.

Interestingly, the three of them together would make a pretty good outfit…

But, she had nowhere to go. Robb was on his date, _obviously_. Arya was going to some warehouse rave. She knew better than to go out with Theon on his own.

It was strange, before her Dad passed away, she had so many friends. But then her Dad died and Jon happened and her circle grew smaller. And it had only started to expand again.

_Which leaves the person who should have been my first choice anyway._

Sansa pulled out her cell phone and sent a text: _Hey Shireen, I’m sure you’re probably sick of me, but if not… I bought a new dress I’m just dying to wear. Fancy a drink?_

To her surprise, the typing bubbles appeared immediately and a moment later a text appeared: _Make it three and you’ve got yourself a deal._

They agreed to meet at eight o’clock at the bar where they’d met. Sansa hopped in the shower and set about drying her hair and doing her make up. She pulled on the dress and the boots and the earrings and pulled her hair in to an artfully distressed updo. She grabbed a cropped jacket and pulled it on and left her apartment at seven-forty-five.

It was a nice night, nice enough to walk, so that’s what she did. She lived in the next neighborhood over from Arya’s, where the bar was located, and she felt safe all on her own given all of the outdoor restaurants and people milling about.

The bar was crowded already by the time she arrived, but she was able to snag two seats in front of the truly gorgeous bartender.

“What’ll it be, beautiful?,” he asked.

_He’s a bartender, he flirts with everyone,_ she told herself.

“Lemon drop martini, please,” she requested.

He gave her a small smile, “Oh right, you were here a couple weeks ago with the Baratheon girls, weren’t you?”

_But of course the Baratheons stand out in his mind…_

_So did you!,_ a voice that sounded like Myrcella pointed out.

Channeling her inner Myrcella Baratheon she smiled slyly and asked, “Now is it my face or the annoyance of making the drink that you remember?”

The bartender chuckled, “Both.”

She giggled and shrugged, as though to suggest that her face made making the drink worth the trouble, and as though he didn’t disagree he smiled once again and set about making it.

“Hi hi hi, am I late?,” a voice asked beside her.

“Of course not, I’m early,” Sansa said.

Shireen had to hoist herself up onto the bar seat, she really was a little bit of a thing. She looked gorgeous in a high neck black top and a pair of leather leggings, her lips painted a devastating black.

“This _dress_ ,” Shireen shook her head.

“Those _lips_ ,” Sansa returned.

Shireen grinned, “It seemed like you were in the mood for destruction, so I dressed accordingly.”

Sansa laughed, “I love it.”

A moment later, a lemon drop martini so cold she could see tiny flakes of ice resting on the top was set down in front of her.

“Whiskey sour?,” the bartender asked Shireen.

“Thanks Daario,” Shireen winked.

Daario grinned and shook his head, as though it was so really just so unusual that a female patron would flirt with him, and went to make the drink.

“So did Myrcella get off alright?,” Sansa asked.

Shireen smiled, “Yeah, Robb picked her up a little while ago. Where is he taking her?”

Figuring that Robb and Myrcella were already on their date, she told her, “He’s taking to her this place called Nan’s. It’s pretty special to our family. Not fancy or anything but really special.”

Shireen nodded, “She’ll like that. She’s been eating in five star restaurants since she was two, just as I have, it takes a bit more to impress her now.”

Sansa nodded, knowing Robb had chosen wisely. It was a good litmus test in all honesty, a way of separating the wheat from the chaff.

Daario placed down Shireen’s whiskey sour and before Sansa could move Shireen handed him a credit card and said, “Keep it open, won’t you?”

“Stop batting those eyelashes at me, Baratheon,” Daario ordered, “You’re only gonna break my heart.”

Shireen giggled and shrugged as though she hadn’t yet made up her mind as to whether she wanted to break his heart or not. Daario moved onto the next guest and she and Shireen lifted their drinks towards one another.

“I really should be getting this,” Sansa said, “For last night.”

Shireen clinked her glass against hers but argued, “Not at all. We’re _friends_ that’s what _friends_ do.”

“Still,” Sansa sighed and took a sip of her drink. It was perfect.

“Look, I’m sure that -,” Shireen started.

“Sansa?,” a deep, moneyed voice cut into their conversation.

Sansa looked to her left and saw a gorgeous guy with dark curly hair and golden eyes looking at her in surprise.

It took her a moment to place him but then it hit her all at once, “Trystane.”

He grinned at being recognized and nodded sheepishly, “Well you’re a nice surprise.”

Shireen’s back was to him, so he hadn’t yet noticed her, and it was not without a flare for the dramatic that Shireen turned to him and asked, “And what am I?”

Trystane turned smiling and then comically double backed, his jaw going all but slack. Sansa couldn’t help winking at him.

“Fuck,” Trystane breathed out, and then manners recovered, “Hi Shireen, you look lovely.”

“You look ashen,” Shireen told him.

“Yeah it’s uh, just that…,” Trystane started and then trailed off, scratching his cheek.

“Helloooo Sansa,” another, substance-addled voice greeted her.

“Harry,” she greeted him stiffly.

“You look _bangin_ ’,” Harry informed her.

“Harry,” Trystane cut in, gesturing none too subtly towards Shireen.

“Ohhh hey baby,” Harry grinned, “Wearing my favorite lipstick, huh?”

Even in the darkness of the bar, Sansa could see that Shireen had turned a deep, embarrassed red. She got Daario’s attention and made a signing gesture and he nodded and went right to the till.

“We were actually just leaving,” Sansa cut in.

“But your drinks are full,” Trystane said and then looked around and asked hopefully, “Is Myrcella joining you?”

“Oh, no,” Sansa shook her head.

“She’s on a date actually,” Shireen said with new strength in her voice.

“A…a date?,” Trystane asked, “That was… with who?”

“My brother,” Sansa offered as gently as she could.

Trystane was obviously a bit full of himself and kind of an idiot, but he didn’t seem _mean_. She had no desire to actually hurt him.

Shireen on the other hand looked like she’d take joy in hurting anyone associated with Harry Hardyng at the moment.

“Oh,” Trystane said.

“Yeah unlike me she doesn’t allow guys to continually fuck up and still give them more chances,” Shireen said.

“I’m not so sure that -,” Trystane started.

“Oh my god will you just get over it and sleep with me again already?,” Harry asked her and then grinned, “You know you want to.”

Daario placed the check down in front of Shireen and Shireen filled in the details angrily and then stashed her credit card in her clutch.

“You know, Harry,” Shireen smiled, “There is something that I _desperately, desperately_ want to do to you.”

Harry chuckled, “Oh yeah? What’s that baby? I’m down for something freaky… you always were a little vanilla.”

Sansa fought the urge to vomit and also scooted her chair away because unlike Harry, she knew _exactly_ what was coming.

In one fluid motion Shireen picked up her whiskey sour and threw it in his face. She then hopped off her chair and flipped her hair.

“Freaky enough for you, _baby_?,” she asked him.

Sansa couldn’t help but laugh as she pushed Shireen forward, “Come _on_ , crazypants.”

Without another look at either Harry or Trystane, they walked through the bar and out into the night.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I did that,” Shireen exulted.

“I can’t believe you did either!,” Sansa laughed, “I’ve never actually _seen_ that in real life, but somehow I just _knew_ it was coming and it was like _bam_ and he was like _whuuuu_ and I was just like _yes!_.”

Shireen laughed and then all of a sudden just started crying.

“Oh my god,” Sansa took her in her arms, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Shireen cried, “You’re right… it was _soo coo-o-o-oool_.”

“It really was,” Sansa assured her, stroking her hair, “But that doesn’t mean it’s not hard to see him again.”

“I just wish it could stop hurting,” Shireen confessed. “Why can’t it stop hurting? I know I don’t want to be with him, I know he’s a bad guy, so why can’t it just stop hurting?”

“I don’t know,” Sansa told her honestly. “I wish I did… we need someone wiser.”

“El’s on a date,” Shireen deadpanned and Sansa laughed.

“Someone even wiser than Myrcella then,” Sansa teased back and then realized, “Like a Mom.”

Shireen pulled away and wiped her eyes, “My Mom was never one much for comforting.”

Sansa’s brow furrowed and she shook her head, “That’s terrible. So who did you go to when you needed help?”

Shireen scrunched nose, “Myrcella I guess. And Gendry, but I can’t talk to him about Harry anymore or he will _actually_ be jailed for murder.”

Sansa laughed, “I understand. But I’m sorry… My Mom is always there for me… I don’t know how I’d function if I didn’t have her.”

“That’s nice,” Shireen offered genuinely, “We could all use a little Mummying every now and then. I mean, not that I’d know, really, but… I’ve heard it’s pretty great.”

“Yeah,” Sansa said and then took out her phone and pressed 1 on her speed dial.

“What are you?-,” Shireen started but Sansa held up her finger.

On the second ring her Mom picked up, “Sansa? Sweetheart are you alright?”

“Yeah I’m okay, Mom,” she assured her, “But um… me and my friend had a lousy night and -“

“Why don’t you come out here?,” her Mom suggested.

Sansa smiled, “I was hoping you’d say that. We’ll be there in an hour.”

“I’m pulling out the ingredients for lemon cakes now,” her Mom promised.

Sansa thanked her and hung up and then said to Shireen, “Let’s go back to yours and you can pack a bag. It’s time you were initiated to being Mummied.”

Shireen smiled widely, skeptically, “Really?”

“Of course, silly,” Sansa said, wrapping her arm around Shireen’s shoulder and guiding them in the direction of her apartment.

The apartment was empty when they got there and Shireen quickly changed out of her outfit and into leggings and an oversized sweater and then packed a small bag with pajamas, a toothbrush, her phone charger and an outfit for tomorrow, washing her face and ridding it of her streaked make up.

Sansa called a car and they drove out to Winterfell mostly in silence. It was a comfortable silence, the kind she had with her siblings.

Before too long the driver pulled onto the long drive, going slowly on the gravel way.

He stopped in the circular drive and they got out and Sansa opened the front door.

“Oh my god _Shaggy_ ,” Sansa exclaimed as Rickon’s dog - the only surviving one of the litter - greeted her.

Shaggy nuzzled against her, happy to have one of his kids home. His body had mellowed in his old age, but his mind was still as manic as it had been when he had been a puppy.

“Sansa is that you?,” her Mom’s voice called.

“It’s me,” she answered.

A moment later her Mom came into the foyer and smiled, holding her arms open for her, “Hi sweetheart, the lemon cakes are _just_ about ready.”

Sansa laughed as she hugged her back, “Perfect,” ignoring the twinge she still felt when her Dad didn’t follow her Mom into the foyer. She pulled away and still held onto her Mom’s arms when she said, “This is my friend Shireen.”

Her Mom turned with a smile but then her face fell, “Oh darling, come here.”

Without hesitation Shireen stepped forward and all but fell into her Mom’s arms, “Hi Mrs. Stark, you have a beautiful home.”

Her Mom laughed and said, “Thank you. Now let’s get you some tea, or some _wine_ , and you can tell me all about it.”

Shireen nodded and they followed her Mom into the large kitchen. Sansa gestured to a seat at the kitchen island and Shireen hopped up and her Mom filled the kettle with water.

“So did Sansa tell you about the date she had a few weeks ago?,” Shireen opened.

Her Mom nodded, “She did. What fools those boys were.”

Shireen nodded, “Well I’m the fool that stayed _with_ the fool.”

“Ah,” her Mom nodded, “Well, we’ve all been there. You know that saying _All’s fair in love and war?_ Well it’s stupid. It should be _All seems fair in love and war_. When you’re in love you are so irrational that you can rationalize just about _anything_.”

Shireen nodded, “Yeah. It’s like…every time he screwed up I could just… explain it away.”

Her Mom smiled, “Totally normal.”

“But why can’t I get over him?,” Shireen asked.

“Ah,” her Mom nodded, “Now that is a harder one.”

Sansa went to the cabinet to grab out the mugs. To her surprise, she opened the cabinet with ease, in silence. The cabinet had been squeaky for as long as she could remember. It was one of those things that her Dad always said he was going to fix that he never did.

“Mom, what’s up with the cabinet?,” she asked.

“Oh, Jon fixed it,” her Mom offered off-handedly, as she started pulling out different tea bags.

“Why would he do that?,” Sansa asked.

“Because it was broken,” her Mom suggested gently.

“But… when? Why? What are you talking about?,” Sansa asked.

“He likes to fix things when he comes over for dinner,” her Mom explained as though this was entirely innocuous information.

“Dinner? When is he coming over for dinner?,” Sansa asked, in a way that she meant to be casual but clearly wasn’t.

“He comes over once a week, has done ever since he got back from the South,” her Mom explained, “I thought you knew that?”

“No,” Sansa shook her head, “No I didn’t know that.”

“Oh,” her Mom said gently, “Well… he does. Fixed that leaky faucet in the guest bath last week finally.”

“Well,” Sansa said, all but slamming down the mugs, and offered with false cheer, “Well isn’t that great?”

“I thought so,” her Mom agreed. The kettle started whistling and her Mom turned back to Shireen, “To answer your question, darling. There are only two reasons people don’t get over someone. Either because they don’t love themselves, or… because they still love them.” With that she went to the stove and turned off the kettle and held it up, looking directly at her, “Tea?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catelyn Stark sass is the most sage of all the sasses, in my humble opinion.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Huge shoutout to @amillcitygirl for snapping me out of it!

“Here we are,” Robb said.

It was her fault. Really, it was.

She should have _asked_. But she didn’t, did she? It was so unlike her. Myrcella Baratheon was a girl who liked a _plan_.

Well, at least she had been until she’d met Robb.

The old Myrcella Baratheon would have freaked out when she’d bumped into the guy she liked at a party when she was decidedly dressed to unimpress.

But when she’d seen Robb at Arya’s party she’d been too excited to see him to really care that she didn’t look her best.

The old Myrcella Baratheon would never agree to a first date without knowing the location.

But when Robb had told her he wanted to surprise her she just focused on how _sweet_ that was.

Every surprise - and there had been a fair few considering they’d only been seeing each other for a week - had been so _perfect,_ so outside of anything that she could _possibly_ plan, that she found herself looking forward to his little surprises.

The one last night had been his best yet, when he’d tied the blindfold around her eyes and made her guess… _no_. She would not be distracted.

Not by last night, not by the way his hand felt perfect holding hers, not by his stupid forget-me-not eyes.

She removed her hand from his and places it with her other, on either side of hips.

“So let me get this straight,” she said firmly, “I agree to spend time with Jon _for you_ , and you think that the _best possible environment_ for me to do that in is a stinky, dark, crowded pub?”

“Um…,” Robb scratched his cheek. “Well… you know there is a game on and uh…”

“Oh,” she nodded, throwing her hands up to the heavens, “ _Oh_. Oh there’s a _game_ on. You should have led with that.”

Robb chuckled, “Okay, fair enough.”

She looked at him pointedly and he glared back at her.

“Stop it,” she ordered.

He kept glaring at her.

“Stop it,” she ordered again, but it was a bit less forceful due to the laugh that escaped her.

He grinned that should-be-illegal grin and tugged her towards him, “Hey.”

“What,” she all but growled.

He went to kiss her and she turned her face so he caught her cheek. He grabbed the side of her face and smacked a series of kisses on her cheek until she couldn’t stop giggling.

He wrapped his arms around her and leaned down so that he could lean his forehead against hers, “He’s my best friend, Ella.”

That was unfair. Only he called her that. Murmured it, moaned it. It softened her instantly, just as he knew it would.

“I know,” she said softly, rubbing her nose against his. He stroked her cheek and she looked into his eyes, “Robb?”

“Yeah sweetheart?,” he asked.

“Do you think they’ll make me a martini?,” she wondered.

He chuckled and pulled her under his arm, “It might come in a pint glass, but yeah.”

She wrapped her arms around his torso and leaned into his chest, breathing in his indescribable smell. The crowd was practically all men, and a few of them threw curious glances her way as Robb lead her over to a table near one of the televisions.

“Stark,” Jon said standing up and holding out his hand.

Rather than unwrap his arm from her, Robb slapped Jon’s hand with his left and greeted him, “Snow.”

Jon looked at her, “Hey Myrcella.”

Robb ever so slightly pressed his hand against her hip, as though she was some sort of animal.

To prove him wrong, and also because she _wasn’t_ an animal and she knew how important it was to Robb she gave Jon a small smile, “Hey Jon. Thanks for letting me crash your man date.”

Jon smirked, “No worries, Robb and I have an open relationship.”

She laughed in spite of herself and took the seat across from Jon, leaving the one in between them open for Robb.

“Where’s Theon?,” Robb asked as he shrugged out of his jacket and placed it on the back of his chair before taking a seat.

Jon shrugged, taking a sip of beer, “Said he had _something to look into_.”

Robb nodded, “Seems legit.”

“So uh, you a football fan?,” Jon asked her.

She nodded vehemently, “Oh yeah, huge.”

“You hate it, huh?,” Jon guessed.

She scrunched her nose, “I really do.”

“Then you need a drink,” Jon asked, “Gin, right?”

“Thank you,” she affirmed.

“Beer?,” he asked Robb.

Robb nodded and Jon got up to go order. The game was already on, and a couple of the guys in back cheered when one of the teams scored, eliciting grumbles from the other patrons, which told her that they were cheering for the wrong team.

“See?,” Robb asked her. She looked at him and raised her eyebrow, so he went on, “He’s cool, right?”

She smiled at him sympathetically, “We spoke for thirty seconds.” His face fell a bit and she took his hand, “Look I said I would try, okay? But just… be patient with me. We’re not going to become best friends overnight.”

“You and Sansa did,” Robb pointed out.

She was about to allow him that point when Jon set a martini glass down in front of her.

“I made them take it out of storage,” he informed her.

She smiled and squeezed Robb’s hand, “Bless you.”

Jon retook his seat and Robb asked him something about some guy named Umber, so she took a sip of her martini and looked around the pub. It was cleaner than she’d originally thought it would be and nice and warm. The martini was practically pure gin, but that was how she liked it anyway.

Robb and Jon stopped talking and looked at the screen so she did the same.

“OFF SIDES!,” she exclaimed.

“Where?,” Jon asked.

“Oh come on you gotta _get that_!,” she went on, gesturing in exasperation at the television.

“Ella!,” Robb laughed, catching on. “People are staring.”

She turned and looked him dead in the eye, “Traveling!”

“That’s not even a thing in football,” Robb pointed out.

“Foul ball!,” she went on then winked at him, “I _told_ you I don’t embarrass easily. Do you?”

He chuckled and grabbed her by the back of her head, pulling her close, “You are crazy,” he said and then smacked a kiss on her lips. She raised her eyebrow at him and he shook his head and then shouted at the television, “ILLEGAL DRIBBLING!”

She clapped her hands, throwing her head back laughing, because she might be crazy but it was pretty clear that he was getting a little crazy about her.

“POWER PLAY!,” Jon shouted next.

“SHUT UP,” one of the guys in the back shouted but she was holding her hand up for Jon to high five.

He smiled at her and she smiled at him. Jon glanced at Robb and then he took a sip of his beer.

“So are you going to let Theon date Shireen?,” Jon asked her.

“I’m not in charge of her social calendar,” she noted and then deadpanned, “But absolutely not.”

Jon chuckled, and tipped his beer bottle towards her but said to Robb, “You found yourself a smart girl.”

Robb nodded solemnly, “She explains things to me.”

She grinned and nudged her foot against his and Robb pressed his leg to hers. She had to look away because the way he was looking at her was borderline inappropriate for a crowded pub on a Saturday afternoon.

She asked Jon about his job and during commercial breaks he asked her about hers. It turned out one of his coworkers, Sam Tarly, was an old family friend of hers. She knew his brother Dickon better, but Sam was clearly a better person, and Jon confirmed that Sam had in fact met someone on his last trip North, a woman named Gilly who might be moving here for him.

“We should all go out,” she suggested, “When she comes to visit.” Robb glanced at her, “You know um… if she’s really thinking of moving here she should meet some girls.”

“That’d be great,” Jon smiled, “I don’t think me and the other guys are the best welcome. And Arya doesn’t really _do_ the whole bonding thing.”

She was right there. It was obvious, as obvious as if she’d taken a seat right beside her. Sansa was there, in his thoughts. In hers and Robb’s. The most obvious choice. The best welcome to Wintertown a girl could ask for. The one girl Jon couldn’t ask.

“Just let me know when,” she confirmed, focusing back on the television because nothing would be accomplished and everything would be spoiled by mentioning Sansa.

“I’ll be right back,” Robb said as he finished his beer. “Same again?”

Jon nodded and she shook her head, “I’m still working.”

Robb got up from the table, grabbing his and Jon’s glasses and walked towards the bar. She and Jon smiled at one another awkwardly, the ease of the conversation leaving the table along with Robb.

She glanced over and saw that there was a line at the bar. Robb looked over and winked at her, mouthing _thank you_ , and she felt her chest swell.

She turned back to Jon, prepared to make small talk but he was looking at her and said, “I want to explain. About Sansa.”

Clearly he hadn’t gotten her internal memo.

She shook her head, “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“But she’s the reason this is so awkward, isn’t she? I mean, other than the fact that I’m sort of grouchy you don’t really have a reason to dislike me, do you?,” he asked.

“Have I been acting like I dislike you?,” she wondered.

He exhaled, “No you’ve been incredibly nice to me and I don’t buy it.”

She could have acted indignant, but there was no point so she said, “Okay, fair enough.”

He smirked, “Stark has rubbed off on you.” He then turned serious, “They have a way of doing that. Getting under your skin.”

She sighed, “Jon I’m here for Robb. I think we should leave Sansa out of it.”

“So she’s told you her side then,” he nodded.

“Jon,” she said more firmly.

“Fine,” he agreed.

She took a sip of her drink and looked back towards the bar. Robb was still two people at least away from being served.

“Well what’s your side?,” she asked, because it was either this or sitting in silence.

“Look I’m not saying I was a saint,” he said, “But just… Sansa doesn’t know the whole story.”

“What’s the part she doesn’t know?,” she wondered.

Jon looked at her and she looked back. _Say it, say something!_ She wanted to scream at him.

“What’s this?,” Robb asked.

She wasn’t sure how he got back so quickly, but there he was, retaking his seat. His return didn’t bring any ease along though, and she and Jon continued to sit there awkwardly.

She was no coward so she admitted, “We were talking about Sansa.”

Robb sighed, “Ella.”

“I brought it up,” Jon said without hesitation.

Harry never admitted to anything, certainly not when someone else could take the heat for him. Trystane either. So at the very least, he was better than them.

“Look, Jon,” she said, “You don’t owe me an explanation. But I’ve seen this _so_ many times.”

“Seen what?,” he asked.

“You screwed up,” she told him and he opened his mouth so she shook her head, “I’m not saying it was all your fault, I’m not suggesting I know the whole story, but you said it yourself. You weren’t a saint. You screwed up and she’s mad at you and you don’t want to be the bad guy, so the easiest way of convincing yourself that you’re not is getting her to forgive you.”

“He’s not that guy, Ella,” Robb said and she looked at him, “He’s not Harry.”

“No,” she shook her head, and looked at Jon, allowing, “No he’s certainly not. So maybe he’ll take some unsolicited advice.”

Jon looked at her for a long moment, taking a sip of beer and then leaned back in his chair, “Go on then.”

“Stop. Stop trying to convince me, stop trying to convince her, stop trying to get her to forgive you. Because the thing is Jon, she’s never going to forgive you halfway. If she forgives you it is only ever going to be to fall in love with you,” she looked him dead in the eye, “So if she’s not the one, you have to stop. It’s just cruel otherwise.. and you don’t strike me as cruel.”

Jon took a sip of beer and then another so she took a sip of her martini. She turned to apologize to Robb but his eyes were warm when they looked at her. She took a deep breath and he rubbed her knee.

“What if she is?,” Jon asked.

“What?,” she wondered.

“You said that if she isn’t the one that I had to stop,” he said and she nodded, “Okay. So what do I do if she _is_?”

Her heart started thudding in her chest, because she could see it in his eyes. She could feel it, suddenly, _fervently_. He _loved_ Sansa. Loved her maybe even more than Sansa loved him.

“Well Jon,” she said as calmly as she was able, “That’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

“Is it?,” he asked Robb.

Robb squeezed her knee but looked at Jon and nodded, “Whatever it takes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eeeeek I'd love to hear what you think!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely words last chapter - you really don't know what a difference it makes hearing from you guys!! 
> 
> trigger warning: mentions of a past eating disorder

“Sansa!,” an excited voice called out to her.

Sansa looked around the subway car and grinned when her eyes landed on Tommen Baratheon, looking very smart in his navy blue suit.

“Tommy!,” she exclaimed in return as he made his way through the moving car until he was standing in front of her.

She kissed his cheek in greeting, ignoring the blush that flooded his cheeks. It had been pointed out to her that he _might_ have a slight crush on her. Which was very sweet, especially because he didn’t make a thing out of it.

There was no reason that she shouldn’t have a crush on him back. He was _gorgeous_ , truly just a beautiful specimen. The male version of Myrcella. And he was sweet.

But he was sweet like a puppy. And while Sansa loved puppies, she didn’t want to date one.

“I’m so glad I ran into you,” she told him, “I have no idea where this place is.”

Tommy smiled confidently, “It’s just around the corner from the next stop. Stick with me, Stark.”

She laughed and nodded and they caught up about their weeks thus far. Tommy was working as a paralegal at a law firm run by one of his grandfather’s oldest acquaintances - Tommy seemed very careful not to use the word _friend_. Apparently there was a _big case_ going on and he was very proud of himself for not divulging any details.

At the next stop they got off the subway and walked up the stairs into the cool night. Fall had come with a vengeance, and any hopes of a brief yet fervent reinstallation of summer had been dashed by the most recent cold snap. She zipped her coat to her chin and placed her hands in her pockets.

“It’s just up here,” Tommy said.

“Lead the way,” she gestured.

“Sansa,” Tommy stopped, “Before we go.”

_Uh oh_.

She kept her face blank and patient.

“You see the thing is,” Tommy said, “Well you know, I was wondering if you’d go out with me sometime. You know, just us, on our own. As a…”

“Date?,” she finished for him.

“Yeah,” he agreed, then more firmly, “As a date.”

“Oh, Tommy, that’s very sweet…,” she started and he nodded as though he knew that this is where it was going to go.

“But you think of me like a little brother?,” he asked.

Her face fell, “Well, kind of. I’m sorry, you’re wonderful and handsome but… yes. I do. And you should know that I adore you, really I do.”

“Thanks,” he nodded and then looked at her sincerely, “It’s mutual.” She smiled and his face contorted, “Did I make this awkward now? Are you going to tell El? Or Shy? Don’t tell Gendry.”

She laughed and hooked her arm through his and started them walking down the street, “I’m not going to tell anyone. And no, you haven’t made anything awkward.”

He stood up straighter having her on his arm and for a brief moment she wondered if she wasn’t just a little bit foolish for dismissing him so quickly. A puppy he may be but he’d accepted rejection with a maturity not found in guys twice his age.

“You know, going out with me _would_ make that guy, what’s-his-face, jealous,” he informed her.

“Maybe,” she agreed, and then tugged his arm so he’d look over at her, “But I’d never toy with your emotions, just to manipulate his.”

“I’ll be your toy any day, Sansa Stark,” Tommy teased.

Sansa threw her head back and laughed. It was strange, almost the sort of thing that Theon would say, but it didn’t matter because it truly _wasn’t_ awkward.

They got to the restaurant a moment later and Tommy gave the hostess Myrcella’s name. The hostess lead them through the crowded, _buzzing_ , dining room to a round table.

“Sansa!,” Myrcella exclaimed with a grin.

“A _hem_ ,” Tommy pointed out.

Myrcella grinned, “I saw you this morning, Tommy.”

Myrcella stood up, she was wearing a gorgeous cream top with enormous sleeves and a pair of leather leggings, a cute headband and dramatic eyeliner. Like Sansa, who worked in fashion, Myrcella’s job in the art world meant that she was able to dress more chic than professional. She herself was wearing a custom long sleeve mini-dress with a low back, as opposed to Tommy in his tailored suit.

They exchanged kisses on the cheek, Myrcella rubbing hers and saying _ooh you’re cold!_

She and Tommy took their seats and she asked, “Are we the first?”

Myrcella nodded, “Theon and Shireen are on their way. Did you know they work right around the corner from each other? And Robb is running late and asked us to order for him. Hoping you can help me on that?”

Sansa nodded as she was confident she’d know exactly what to order for Robb. She ordered for him half the time he was sitting at the table anyway.

“Love that dress,” Myrcella informed her.

“I’ll be stealing that blouse,” she confessed back.

“Are we late?,” a breathless voice asked behind them.

She turned and there were Shireen and Theon, their cheeks both rosy from the cold.

“We just got here,” Tommy answered, holding his hand out for Theon to shake.

Theon sat down next to Myrcella and Shireen plopped in between her and Tommy.

“Well I need a drink, are we doing cocktails or a bottle of wine?,” Shireen asked, picking up her menu.

“I’ll do red, if you want wine,” Myrcella offered.

“Good with me,” Theon agreed.

She and Tommy nodded as well and Shireen handed Myrcella the wine list. The restaurant was packed with the after-work crowd, people that were here just for drinks at the bar were so many that they were standing in between the tables.

“So what did you do on Saturday?,” she asked Shireen.

“Hmm?,” Shireen asked, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and looking away from the menu she’d been perusing.

“On Saturday? What did you -,” she started to ask again but a server appeared at the table.

“Can we please have two bottles of the 2008 Arbor Cab?,” Myrcella asked, then looked around at everyone, “Anymore for anymore?”

“Can we have some of those pistachios, please?,” Tommy asked.

The server nodded and walked away without ceremony.

“So where’s your boyfriend?,” Theon asked Myrcella.

She grinned but shook her head, “He’s on his way, he got stuck on a call. And he’s not my boyfriend.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and they landed on Shireen who was doing the same. In Myrcella’s defense, she and Robb had only been dating for about two weeks, but it was clear to anyone that they were loved up.

“Is that a proposition, Baratheon?,” Theon teased her.

“As if, Greyjoy,” Myrcella said with a palm to his face.

Sansa glanced at Shireen in time to see her jaw clenching, which was worrisome, but the server returned and began opening their wine with a flourish.

“Have you made any decisions?,” the server asked.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” they heard as Robb came to the table.

The server disappeared, probably off to do another fifty things as it was clear that Robb would be making his greetings.

He patted Tommy on the back and pointed at Theon. He pressed his hands on Shireen’s shoulders and then a kiss to her cheek, and then he plopped a kiss on top of Sansa’s head. After he’d gotten through the formalities he took the one empty seat next to Myrcella.

“Hi sweetheart,” he belied Myrcella’s earlier dismissal of their relationship dismiss. He didn’t kiss her but he might as well have, from the way he was looking at her. It might have even been less intimate. “You look gorgeous.”

“Hi,” she smiled back, taking a deep steadying breath as Robb rested his hand on her thigh.

Her stomach churned with jealousy, even as it warmed her heart to see them both so happy and at ease with one another. It was just that she could feel it, remember it. The way it felt when Jon’s hands would gravitate towards her body, not even lasciviously, but just as though she were a sort of anchor for him. As though it made all of the sense in the world that she was at his side, that their bodies would reach out for one another’s without thought or self-consciousness.

_It was only a few days_ , the pesky voice in her head reminded her.

_And a lifetime,_ she lamented back.

She couldn’t help but wonder if that was the problem. The lifetime of it all. Sansa looked at Robb and Myrcella now, who were laughing about something inconsequential with Theon, and she found herself imagining what it might have been like if Jon and she had met one another the way they did. Without all the history and the familial pressures. Without all the heartache and sadness and taint of shared experiences.

_No,_ the pesky voice told her, _You’d never be like them._

Sansa agreed. Robb and Myrcella were entirely different to her and Jon. Everywhere that she and Jon were plagued with self-doubt, Myrcella and Robb were confident. There was a freedom that came with that sort of confidence, a freedom of the heart. One that she’d never experienced, loving Jon in desperate secrecy for so long.

“So Dovey,” Robb turned to her, “What am I having?”

“The shepherd’s pie,” she informed him.

Robb nodded in excitement, “Yes I am. What about you, sweetheart?”

“I’m having the tuna tartare,” Myrcella told him.

“That’s not dinner,” Robb pointed out.

“Anything you eat around this time is dinner,” Myrcella retorted.

Robb rolled his eyes, “You know what I mean, that’s not enough.”

Myrcella looked at Shireen and Sansa and they all laughed.

“Shhh don’t shatter the _illluuuusion_ ,” Shireen ordered.

“What illusion?,” Theon asked.

“The men can’t know!,” Sansa exclaimed dramatically.

Myrcella cackled and stacked her menu on top of Robb’s and then passed them to her.

“What?,” Robb wondered.

Myrcella rolled her eyes and looked at him, placing her hands on his shoulders, “I hate to break it to you, baby, but I’m not a girl in a romantic comedy. I can’t look like this and eat burgers for every meal.”

“Well not _every_ meal,” Robb allowed, “But still. You’d look beautiful no matter what weight.”

“He says to the size zero,” Shireen noted.

“Okay, okay, that’s _enough_ about size, and weight and all the rest,” Myrcella announced, then turned to Robb and said, “If it makes you feel better they have the best tuna tartare in the city.”

“That does make me feel better,” Robb nodded and Myrcella turned back to Theon but Robb caught her eye instead.

She knew what he was thinking, but it had been years since she’d suffered from anything resembling an eating disorder and she knew from spending time with Myrcella that while she watched her weight, she was healthy about it.

She gave Robb a reassuring smile, both because she wanted him to know that Myrcella was okay, and also that it was okay that he felt this strongly about her so soon. Because it was just obvious that the idea of Myrcella hurting herself would kill him in away that was not necessarily usual for a guy who’d known a girl for a month.

Robb nodded and raised his glass of wine to her so Sansa clinked hers against his.

The server came back and everyone ordered their meals. Seemingly to appease Robb, Myrcella ordered the beet salad along with her tartare.

Theon and Tommy were chatting like old friends so she and Shireen caught up about their weeks and what they wanted to do that weekend. They hadn’t seen one another last weekend, she’d gone out to Winterfell and hung there, and Shireen had stayed in the city, citing vague plans.

“So Saturday night I was thinking that we could try that new place uptown?,” she suggested.

“Oh Saturday night I can’t,” Shireen said, “Myrcella and I have plans but you should come wi-“

Shireen stopped talking as she turned towards Myrcella so Sansa did the same in time to see Myrcella making a cutting motion with her hand.

“What?,” Shireen asked.

Myrcella glanced at her and blushed a bit, which was unusual for her, and she said, “I’d love you to come on Saturday night, but you may not want to.”

“Ritual sacrifice?,” Sansa joked.

Myrcella smiled sheepishly, “Yeah kind of… Jon will be there.” With that, Sansa could suddenly feel everyone’s eyes on her. Myrcella tried to recover, “Let’s talk about it later.”

She nodded and took a sip of wine.

Shireen clearly had no intention of letting it go, “You didn’t tell me that.”

“Yes I did,” Myrcella argued. “I told you Jon’s coworker Sam -“

“Sam?,” Sansa cut in, “I love Sam.”

“Then you should come, really you should,” Myrcella said to her, “Jon will be there but it’s not for him. Sam has a new girlfriend and she’s coming down for the weekend. I guess she’s thinking of moving here and I wanted to show her a nice time - Sam is an old friend of the family.”

Sansa guessed that Myrcella knew Dickon better than Sam, but anyone who had a brain - which Myrcella definitely did - would know that Sam was the better of the two brothers. She adored him, and would really like to meet the girl that had apparently captured his heart.

“You should come, Dovey,” Robb agreed, “It’ll be a big group of us. Theon and I’ll be there, and these two - Tommy are you coming, too?”

Tommy nodded, “Yeah sure. I’m supposed to hang out with Gendry but -“

“Bring him,” Robb suggested. “Arya I think’ll come too, now that it’s a party. You’ll have tons of back up.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that it was for Jon?,” Shireen asked Myrcella.

“I _did_ , and besides it’s _not_ ,” Myrcella pointed out.

“I just don’t want to be around him,” Shireen said and then pointed out, “And I don’t think Sansa should be either.”

“Shy…,” Myrcella started, “I think maybe you should let Sansa make her own decision about this…”

“Unbelievable!,” Shireen erupted, “You hang out with him _once_ and suddenly he’s like your best friend!”

“Shy! What has gotten into you?,” Myrcella asked, which was honestly fair because there were practically lasers shooting out of Shireen’s eyes.

“Well… would you push _me_ to hang out with _Harry_?,” Shireen asked.

“First of all, I’m not pushing anyone to do anything and second of all of that’s different,” Myrcella argued.

“How?,” Shireen challenged.

“Because Harry is an irredeemable asshole,” Myrcella shot right back.

It was immediately obvious that Shireen had nothing to say to that. Sansa appreciated Shireen’s loyalty, but she was glad the fight was out of her. Myrcella was in a tricky spot, dating Robb, and in her defense she really hadn’t been pushing her.

Even still, she couldn’t help but ask, “And what’s Jon?”

Myrcella’s eyes left Shireen and stared into hers. She was silent for a moment and then she glanced at Robb and then back at her.

“You know him better than I do,” Myrcella said finally, “How would you describe him?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so basically what happened is that this week has been atrocious and everything is terrible so I wanted to write just you know pure fluff for our babies and that's what I did. it's just sentences and sentences of fluff and if you don't want to read fluff or you don't like modern aus then just don't read it because honestly I am so sick of people making it my problem that they read multiple chapters into a story that they don't like. considered yourselves warned. This is ALL FLUFF. If you don't like fluff, go watch the news.

“Hello Miss Myrcella,” Robb’s doorman greeted her.

“Hi Louis,” she smiled, “Robb upstairs?”

“Oh yes,” he nodded and then leaned towards her, “He looked mighty nervous. Take it easy on him, won’t you?”

She laughed and promised and then went towards the elevator to go up to Robb’s apartment. Like her he lived downtown but he lived on the other side of it, where a lot of the guys who worked in finance lived. His building in particular was full of young guys in $2,000 suits, always heading to a squash game or off for a weekend in the country.

Robb’s apartment was on the 18th floor and had a stunning view that made you forget all about the other tenants the moment you walked inside it. It was sparse, _austere_ almost, but large and handsome just like him.

She got off the elevator and knocked on his door. She heard metal clanking and then an obscenity but a moment later Robb opened the door.

Or at least, she _thought_ he did. In truth the door was opened but there was no one behind it. She peered inside and saw Robb at the stove, flipping something. The smells of butter and garlic wafted over to her and her stomach growled.

“Hi baby,” she called as she closed the door, “Smells good.”

“Yeah,” Robb said and then stirred something else.

To say that this was not the usual greeting he gave her would be putting it lightly. Usually there was a lot of kisses and then a bit of a cuddle and then another kiss and so on and so forth until whoever else was in the room left in disgust.

“Can I help with anything?,” she asked as she set her bag down.

If Robb heard her he didn’t show any signs of actually understanding her as he stirred something in a pot as he looked down in his oven. She continued walking into his kitchen area and then right up behind him.

There was a vat of boiling water and then some chicken cutlets in the skillet. There was a red sauce in a smaller pot and a couple of different cheeses on the counter beside everything.

She wrapped her arms around Robb’s waist from behind and hugged him to her, “You’re making me chicken parmesan?”

“I’m trying to anyway,” he said, sticking his finger in the sauce and bringing it to his lips.

“Let me help,” she suggested.

“No,” he said stubbornly, “I told you I was making you dinner. It doesn’t count if you help me.”

“I’m not keeping score,” she pointed out.

He sighed, “I know. Just.. just let me do this okay? There’s wine over there, you can pour yourself a glass and tell me about your day.”

Even though it was perfectly clear that if she told him about her day there would be absolutely no possibility that he would retain that information, she couldn’t help but be overwhelmingly… there wasn’t a _word_ for it, that he was going through so much trouble for her.

She took pity on him and stepped away, only smacking his butt once. She crossed to the other counter and poured a glass of red wine and then took a seat at his kitchen island.

He had taken off his suit jacket and had rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up to reveal his confusingly sexy forearms. The fact that he was cooking marinara sauce in a white shirt truly made her question his sanity but that was besides the point.

He turned off one burner and took the chicken cutlets off the stove, laying them on a baking sheet and then he started looking around. She picked up a large spoon and handed it to him and he looked at her in surprise and then smiled and took it from her. He layered sauce on each of the cutlets and then a generous mixture of cheeses and then he popped the chicken in the oven. He then poured pasta into the boiling water.

He looked up at her, “Hi.”

“Oh,” she sipped her wine, “Hello.”

“I don’t cook often,” he explained. Then admitted, “It stresses me out a bit.”

“Stress looks good on you,” she noted and then set her wine glass down.

He came around the island and she turned to the side on the chair, opening her legs so that he could step in between them. He did just that and then pressed the long anticipated kiss to her lips. Her heart thrummed in her chest as she felt his fingers tenderly on her cheek.

“It smells delicious,” she told him.

“You smell delicious,” he informed her and kissed her again.

She moved her hands into his hair, feeling his curls in her fingers. He groaned into her mouth and she kissed him deeper, tugging him against her.

“Stop, stop, stop,” he ordered, removing himself from her grasp. “I’m mad at you.”

“Um…,” she straightened up, wiping her lips, “This is what you do when you’re mad at someone?”

“What do you mean?,” Robb asked her sincerely.

She grinned, “Well… you’re cooking me a feast…”

“Well I told you I was making you dinner…,” Robb pointed out.

“Right, but you’re mad at me?,” Myrcella reminded him.

“Okay the two things are entirely disconnected…,” he argued. “We had a plan for dinner _and_ I am mad at you.”

“Okay, but if you’re mad at me, why are you making me dinner? I mean, that’s a very nice thing to do, making someone dinner. Oh unless you’ve put _poison_ in it, that would be a good way to get your point across,” she couldn’t help but tease him because he was very clearly getting agitated and winding him up was one of life’s simple pleasures.

“Widely off-topic!,” he exclaimed, going back to the stove and stirring the pasta angrily. He then came back around the island and said, “And not for nothing, but if you’ve made a plan to make dinner for someone, poisoning them is the stupidest thing you could do. I mean, how would you get away with it?”

“Well -,” she started but he interrupted her.

“I’m not debating this with you,” he said firmly.

“Okay,” she agreed and then crossed her legs and took a sip of wine, “So you’re mad at me?”

“Yes,” he nodded, smoothing his shirt and standing up straight, “I am mad at you.”

“Okay, let’s talk about it,” she offered.

“Well, it has come to my attention that you’ve been going around town telling people that I’m not your boyfriend,” he told her formally.

She narrowed her eyes at him, “What?”

“Yes! On _multiple_ occasions it has been mentioned to me that you’ve been saying I’m not your boyfriend,” he went on.

“Well to be fair I only told my mailman… oh and the guy at the bodega…. oh…hmmm and then I did send out that press release the other day but…,” she pondered.

“Myrcella,” Robb exasperated.

She threw her hands up in the air, “It’s not like I’ve been shouting it from the rooftops, Robb. It’s not like I introduce myself as _Hi I’m Myrcella Baratheon and Robb Stark is not my boyfriend_. It’s just been mentioned a few times in passing that you’re my boyfriend and I’ve corrected those people once or twice.”

“So it’s true?,” Robb asked, “You don’t think of me as your boyfriend?”

For the first time he looked genuinely hurt and that took all the teasing right out of her. It was one thing to goad him when he was being bombastic but if he was actually upset then she had to make it better.

“Robb,” she sighed, getting off of the chair, “All I’m saying, all I _was_ saying, is that we haven’t had the conversation yet. And you know I’ve seen this before, when two people start dating and they hang out with the same people, they sort of _merge_ whether they like it or not and I didn’t want that to happen to us. I wanted it to be our decision, not just something that happened out of convenience.”

“Is that really the reason?,” he asked her.

“What other reason would there be?,” she wondered.

He rolled his eyes, “Other than the obvious you mean?”

She pulled him closer to her, “Are you honestly worried about that?”

“I don’t know if you know this, but you’re kind of a catch,” he informed her.

She leaned in closer and murmured, “I know this.”

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her lips. She kissed him back, deeply, so he’d know she meant it.

She pulled away, “Robb?”

“Yeah?,” he asked.

“I don’t know how to be someone’s girlfriend,” she informed him.

He smirked, “I’m pretty low maintenance.”

“He says, after poisoning my food over a simple misunderstanding,” she grinned.

He chuckled, “Fair enough. But basically you just keep being you, and you don’t sleep with anyone else.”

“Oh _shoot_ ,” she lamented.

Robb tickled her side and she squealed so he tickled the other.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, “We both know you are man enough for me. Come onnnn Robb Stark, be my boyfriend. Won’t you?”

“Well, now that you begged,” he allowed.

She giggled and he went back around and stirred the pasta and bent down to check the oven. She used the opportunity to go to her bag and grabbed her cell phone and brought it back to the island with her.

She took a seat and looked through her contacts before she landed on the one she was looking for.

Robb looked at her questioning and she held one finger up to him as she brought the phone to her ear.

_“Hello?”_

“Yes, Theon hi,” she said, “I just wanted you to know that Robb Stark is my boyfriend.”

“What? I know that -,” Theon started but she interrupted.

“No you _assumed_ that, now it’s _official -,”_ she reminded him but he interrupted.

“Myrcella I’m in a meeting!,” he exclaimed and hung up.

“Well _he_ ’s thrilled,” she informed Robb.

He chuckled as he took the pasta off the stove and dumped it into a colander.

“How long would you say the chicken needs?,” she asked.

“Just another minute or two, why?,” he asked.

“Well I’m just wondering if I should go tell Louis now or if I should wait until after we eat,” she pondered.

“You are going to be very occupied after dinner,” he told her, “Especially if you keep that cheek up.”

“Is that right?,” she smiled.

She walked over to the sink and he wrapped his arms around her. They kissed again and again until his timer went off for the chicken and then they set about getting the meal onto the appropriate platters. He even let her help.

“This looks amazing,” she told him.

“Thanks,” he smiled proudly and then his face fell, “Let me take a bite first.”

“Robb?,” she questioned.

“Well just in case,” he noted.

She laughed and cut a piece of chicken and popped it in her mouth, “ _Delicious._ ”

“Really?,” he grinned.

“The poison mixes perfectly with the sauce,” she confirmed.

He took a bite and chewed then nodded, “Much better than the brand I used on the last girl.”

He had been so adamant that he wanted to cook for her after she’d made him dinner on Tuesday and if she were being entirely honest she’d admit that she had been skeptical. Robb was a very capable guy but she’d never seen him so much as make coffee in the time they’d been together.

She could admit when she was wrong though and she was _wrong_. Everything was cooked to perfection. And it was so sweet that he’d gone through such trouble.

She set her fork down and stood up. He glanced up at her and she plopped herself into his lap.

“Ella,” he grinned.

Before he could protest further she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned her forehead against his. She felt him wrap his arms around her back and he held the back of her neck in his hand.

“I’m sorry I made you nervous,” she told him.

“Goes with the territory…,” he said and she raised her eyebrow, “Dating up.”

She threw her head back and laughed, because the idea of Robb Stark not being good enough for _anyone_ let alone _her_ was ridiculous. He took advantage and he pressed a kiss to her throat.

“Robb…,” she sighed. He kissed up to her ear and she couldn’t see straight, “Robb!”

“What, yes!,” he stopped immediately.

“Sorry, calm down,” she soothed, patting his chest, “It’s just, you made a delicious dinner and we’re going to enjoy it and then we can… um… have dessert.”

“Right,” he nodded.

He didn’t even bother pointing out that _she_ had been the one to sit in _his_ lap. Her boyfriend was classy like that. She pressed a kiss to his lips and then got up and sat back down at her seat.

She cut another piece of chicken and chewed it and he ate another bite of his. She felt his calf against hers and she couldn’t help but rub hers against his. He took her hand in his and rubbed the back of it with his thumb.

“You know um…,” he said, “I’ve had this cold… it’s pretty good.”

“Oh thank god,” she exulted.

He stood up and yanked her with him, scooping her up into his arms. She kissed his cheek and his neck, her hands wandering into his hair.

“Oh shoot,” he stopped.

“What?,” she asked.

“Well, you wanted to tell Louis the big news, didn’t you?,” he teased.

She grinned, “He can read it in the paper tomorrow.”

“Some good news for a change,” he murmured against her lips.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To say I struggled this one is a massive massive understatement. I hope you enjoy

The bar was packed and noisy. She could feel the beat of the music thrumming in her chest, so much more measured than her erratic heartbeat.

“I think they’re back here!,” Shireen said, holding out her hand.

Sansa took it and turned back to Myrcella who was glancing around. Myrcella’s green eyes fell to hers and her friend grinned encouragingly, looping an arm around her waist as they followed Shireen.

“This place is mad!,” Myrcella exclaimed in her ear.

“Arya picked it,” Sansa noted back in hers.

Myrcella nodded as though that served to reason, and she felt her hand squeeze her waist reassuringly.

_I’m right here,_ that squeeze told her, just as Myrcella had promised earlier.

Through only a little convincing, the Baratheon cousins had convinced her to come tonight. She wanted to meet Sam’s new girlfriend and welcome her here. So far it sounded like Gilly had only met the guys of the Night’s Watch, which was hardly the warm and fuzzy welcome she’d want in a new place. They were great guys, and loyal to a fault, but lacked a certain finesse that she and the Baratheon girls would be able to supply in spades.

On top of all of that, she was really sick of deciding where to go based on whether Jon Snow would be there or not. Enough was enough, it was time to move on, and sometimes people held onto the pain because it was the only thing left. She didn’t want to be one of those people.

So when Myrcella had texted her about it this morning, she’d agreed with one stipulation: _You can’t leave me on my own_.

Myrcella agreed readily and she and Shireen had come over with duffle bags overflowing with clothes and products and hair tools that afternoon. They’d gotten ready lazily, trying on different outfits.

Somehow they’d convinced her to wear a top she’d bought two years ago that still had the tags on it. She’d bought it on a whim and had chickened out actually wearing it ever since.

Black and low cut, it was the sort of thing she always _wish_ she could wear but never quite had the confidence to. Myrcella had pulled it out of her closet in curiosity though and they’d convinced her to put it on. Their jaws nearly hitting the floor had given her the necessary push to agree to wear it.

She was regretting it slightly now, but there was no going back.

“Shy I see them, go right!,” Myrcella shouted to get her cousin’s attention.

Shireen didn’t answer but slowly they started moving to the right, confirming she’d heard. A moment later, Sansa saw Tormund Giantsbane’s head towering over the crowd.

“Oi Giantsbane!,” she shouted.

Somehow he heard her and grinned his wide, slightly crazed smile. Before they knew it, a path had cleared in front of them and she was being lifted off the ground.

She hugged him back. It had been way too long since she’d seen him. They’d become friendly when she moved back North and was hanging out with Robb and Jon a ton.

He set her down, “Where the fuck have you been? I missed you Stark.”

“You too,” she smiled.

He looked down at her and shook his head, “You’re gonna kill him.”

“Who?,” she asked stubbornly.

He grinned and shook his head and then without introducing himself to Shireen or Myrcella, he turned and enveloped all of them in his long arms and ushered them forward.

The group had largely assembled, it seemed like they were the last to arrive apart from Tommy and Gendry. There were a bunch of guys from Night’s Watch here, the main guys on Jon and Sam’s team - Edd, Grenn, Pip in addition to Tormund.

“Myrcella? Hey gorgeous,” Dickon Tarly appeared out of thin air as though he had some sort of radar.

“Hey Dicky,” Myrcella said, allowing him to kiss her cheek and then turned to them, “You remember Shireen, and do you know Sansa?”

“Hey Shireen,” Dickon said and then turned to her, his eyes going wide. “Wow, Sansa, it’s been a minute. You look incredible.”

“Thanks,” she smiled, feeling a slight blush in spite of herself.

Sam Tarly was clearly the superior brother, but that didn’t _really_ say much because if you lined up the best people in the country, Sam would still be superior. He was just that kind of guy.

Dickon had only been around every so often when she hung out with them all, he didn’t really fit in with the Night’s Watch crowd. But that didn’t make him a _bad_ guy, just different.

“Can I get you a drink? I’ve started a tab,” he asked, “You like… lime…something.”

She could feel Myrcella and Shireen’s eyes on her, not to mention Tormund’s, but she ignored them all and amended, “Lemon… martinis.”

“Lemon,” he grinned and then placed his hand on his heart, “If I promise _never_ to make that mistake again… can I buy you a drink?”

She felt both Baratheon cousins pinch her side so her “Yes,” came out halfway as a yelp.

If Dickon noticed he obviously didn’t care, as he held his hand out to her. She placed hers in his, marveling at how small her long fingers felt in his.

He took her up to the bar where Sam was standing with a pretty brunette.

“Sam!,” she smiled.

“Sansa! I’m so glad you’re here,” Sam offered her genuinely, then turned to the girl at his side, “This is my Gilly.”

The girl smiled shyly at her and Sansa gave her a brief hug, “I’m so glad to meet you.”

“You too,” Gilly said, “Jon - _everyone_ has been saying such nice things.”

She smiled and ignored the slight flip in her stomach at the knowledge that Jon had been speaking of her fondly. The stubborn part of her told her that there was no reason he _shouldn’t_. The more stubborn part of her suggested that maybe there was a reason or two.

“Dovey,” she heard behind her and turned to see Robb.

“I’m surprised you even knew I was here,” she teased him.

Robb wrapped her in a bear hug, clearly he was tipsy already, and smacked a kiss on her forehead.

“Did you put your drink on my tab?,” he asked.

“No, Dickon is getting me a drink,” she explained.

Robb looked past her to Dickon and nodded, “Yeah I bet.”

“SAMMY!,” an excited voice cut into their conversation and they both turned to watch as Myrcella launched herself into Sam’s unexpecting but nevertheless ready arms.

“Oof,” Sam uttered as he hugged Myrcella.

Myrcella turned, still in Sam’s arms with a wide smile on her face. “You must be Gilly! I’ve heard so much about you. Gosh you’re so pretty.”

“T-thank you,” Gilly said, clearly taken aback by Myrcella’s…well…Myrcella-ness.

Sam put Myrcella down and she offered Gilly her hand, “Sorry, I just love Sam to bits.”

“That’s okay,” Gilly said, shaking it, and then offered, “So do I.”

Myrcella grinned, “Then we’re best friends already, aren’t we?”

“Guess so,” Gilly smiled.

“A _hem_ ,” Sansa cut in stubbornly.

“Oh,” Myrcella said and then turned to Gilly solemnly, “Sansa is _also_ our best friend.”

“What about me?,” Robb asked.

“You don’t count,” she and Myrcella suggested in tandem.

Robb’s jaw dropped and he shook his head, “Whatever. I’m going somewhere I’m _appreciated_. THEON? I NEED YOU.”

“I’m here!,” Theon called back and Robb pressed a kiss to Myrcella’s cheek as he disappeared.

“Tarly boys,” Myrcella said, as Dickon handed her the lemon martini, “Please leave us.”

“Sansa?,” Dickon asked.

Sansa looked up at him. He really was _gorgeous_. He looked like some sort of god, with his strong, enormous build and square jaw.

And then she took notice of the way he was looking at her and thought about the way Myrcella had never _once_ been afraid to shoo Robb away. Wondering if that sort of confidence was ingrained in her or if it was a muscle that you had to push every now and again.

She offered him what she imagined to be her most dazzling smile, “I promise I’ll come get you when I need a refill.”

He grinned kind of stupidly and nodded, and then whispered in her ear, “Drink quickly.”

He stroked her arm and then pulled Sam away. She and Myrcella took two of the seats at the bar and left Gilly the one in between them. She sat down and looked nervously in between them.

“It’s a lot, huh?,” Myrcella asked sympathetically.

Gilly tucked her hair behind her ear, “Yeah… I mean it’s _great,_ everyone has been really lovely. But wow… it’s like stepping into a magazine spread. Everyone is so…pretty.”

“Then you fit in perfectly,” Sansa nudged her and Gilly smiled gratefully. “But honestly, I _know_ it’s a lot. I was hanging out with the Night’s Watch guys for a while and they’re… a lot.”

Gilly shook her head, “No, no, no they’ve been great. It’s this city. It’s so big, there’s so many people. Jon was telling me that’s how he felt when he went South, really…overwhelmed… so I can’t even imagine what that’s like.”

“Jon said he was overwhelmed?,” Sansa asked.

Gilly nodded, “Yeah you know, an adjustment. He could have just been saying it to make me feel better about how I was feeling here. He’s been so wonderful since I’ve gotten here. Do you two know him well?”

“A little,” Myrcella answered, so that she didn’t have to. “He’s my boyfriend’s best friend.”

“Oh,” Gilly smiled and then turned to her.

“We grew up together,” Sansa allowed.

“Oh so you know then,” Gilly smiled. “Sam got caught up with something yesterday so Jon came to pick me up at the airport. It was so unnecessary but so kind.”

Sansa tried to smile but she couldn’t really. Just earlier she’d spoken to her Mom who had told her that Jon had come over that week to help Rickon study for a math test.

“Excuse me, for a second,” she asked and Myrcella nodded, engaging Gilly in conversation effortlessly.

Sansa hopped off the bar stool and walked through their friends. She squeezed Shireen’s hand on the way over, who was talking to Theon and Robb. She smiled at Grenn and Pip and then walked by them to where Sam and Dickon were standing.

Dickon turned to smile at her, “Finished already?”

She held up her still full drink and shook her head, “Not quite yet.” She turned to Sam, “She’s wonderful.”

Sam smiled, “I know.”

“How do you think the operation is going?,” Dickon asked him.

Sam shrugged, “Not sure yet. I’m not sure she’s sold.”

“I think she is on you,” Sansa said, “Just maybe not on Wintertown.”

Sam nodded, “Yeah… never thought that’d be the case. I’m taking her to old town tomorrow. Hoping she can see that part of the city is like a small town.”

Sansa smiled, and offered, “You should take her to Nan’s for supper.”

Sam smiled, “Jon said the same thing! He called Nan himself. We’re eating there tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Sansa fought to keep a smile on her face.

“Yeah he’s been really great,” Sam nodded, “Gilly adores him.”

Sansa smiled and then thrust her martini into Dickon’s hand, “I’m sorry, would you hold that for a second?”

Dickon nodded and went to say something else, but she didn’t hear it. She was pushing her way through the crowd. Away, away from Jon, away from their friends, just away.

With a good amount of exertion she made her way back outside. The cold air hit her like a ton of bricks but it felt good. A moment of numbness that felt like a memory even as it was happening.

“Sansa,” a surprised voice said.

She closed her eyes. Of course it was him.

“Jon,” she realized.

“I just uh… it’s really loud in there,” he offered by way of explanation.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

“Yeah,” he agreed and then gestured to the door, “I’ll just…”

“It seems like everyone is intent on telling me what a good guy you are,” she stopped him in his tracks.

He had gotten to the door, his hand was on it, but he suggested, “Maybe that’s because you’re so intent on not believing it.”

“Is that what you think?,” she wondered. “That I think you’re a bad guy?”

He looked at the door and then back at her and then released it. He took a few steps away from it and then went to go back to it, as though he wasn’t going to have this conversation with her.

He stopped himself once again, “What am I suppose to think?”

“Jon I _wish_ you were a bad guy,” she sighed. “Things would be so much easier if you were just a _bad guy_. But you’re not, I know that. I’ve always known that.”

“Even now?,” he wondered.

“Even now,” she confirmed.

He was silent for a moment as though this was entirely new information. Maybe it was.

“Then…why?,” he asked finally.

She didn’t want to have this conversation, because she didn’t want to say _this_. For so long she had stopped herself from saying _this_ out loud, even if she could never stop thinking it.

But seeing as how she couldn’t seem to get over it, she was just going to have to go through it.

“Because a good guy would never break the heart of a girl who had just lost her father,” she answered. She took a deep shaky breath and went on, “So, imagine how much you had to not want to be with me to do it.”

“Sansa…,” he started.

“No,” she shook her head, thinking about it. “It’s okay, really it is. I guess I had never really heard it out loud. I’ve been angry at you for so long but… you just didn’t want to be with me, and that’s okay. How can I be angry with you about that? You know um, we were emotional and it got away from us and you got in over your head and it’s fine, _really_ it is. It’s not your fault I had been loving you all that time.”

It was easy to say matter of fact now. Strange, that. After all this time, all the tears, all the pain, the easiest thing to say was the one thing she never could before. She loved Jon Snow. She always had, and probably always would. She couldn’t change it, so really there was no point fighting it any longer.

“All this time,” he said softly. It seemed strange, that he’d be so surprised. “All this time, everyone’s been telling me that I’m the dumb one.”

“You’re not dumb,” she argued.

“Are you?,” he wondered. She opened her mouth to rail back at him, but he shook his head, “You’d have to be - to stand there and say _that_ to me. You think I didn’t… you always did didn’t you?… For fu-my god.”

“Jon?,” she asked.

He was almost starting to frighten her he seemed so agitated. It was confusing, she was giving him an out. The out she should have given him so long ago. She was letting him off the hook, in the hopes that she’d get off it too.

He walked away from her and she tightened her jacket around her, wondering whether she should just go back inside.

“Sansa you’re my first memory. The very first one,” he said turning back to her, and as he crossed under the streetlight she saw he had tears in his eyes. “I was… I don’t know… three I guess. I remember you were sitting across the room from me. And all of a sudden you just got up and started walking. Adults rushed in and you fell and someone scooped you up and took you away and you started to cry. And I remember the pain I felt. You had been so close… and then…”

She blushed and shook her head, “Jon I don’t understand…”

“It’s like I’ve always known I couldn’t have you…,” he said, as though it explained everything. And then all at once it did, “And it only made me love you more.”

“You…,” she started and then jutted her chin forward, unable to lay herself bare once again.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen the way that it did,” he said. “When your Dad died I wanted to be there for you.”

_You were_.

“Not in the right way,” he argued as though he’d heard her. As though he could taste the protestation as it died on her lips. “We were so… messed up. And it felt good… to get lost in each other. But that wasn’t what you needed…”

“Ye-yes it was,” her voice broke. She all but whispered, “ _You were_.”

He shook his head, “No. I should have had the strength to leave you alone.”

“No,” she argued, her anger coming back, “You should have had the strength to _stay_.”

He nodded, owning up to it, “Yeah, I shouldn’t have left.”

“Then why did you?,” she had to ask.

Jon looked at her like she was mad, and then almost like _he_ was angry. She realized then that he was. Inconceivably he was.

He practically scoffed at her, “You go your whole life thinking you can’t have something. And then you get it in a way you _never_ expected, never wanted, you see how _you_ handle it.”

His anger courted her own, and she reminded him, “I _know_ how I’d handle it, Jon. I was _in_ it, I was _in_ it with you and you just left. You just left me all alone. You -“

“Abandoned you,” he finished for her. “I know.” He looked at her then, “Do you even remember that day? When I took you home?”

“Of course I remember,” she almost spat at him.

“And yet it surprises you that I stayed away? Sansa you… you told me you never wanted to see me again,” he reminded her. “You told me you hated me.”

“In that moment I did,” she nodded.

“And now?,” he asked. He stepped forward and she took a step back. “Sansa…”

It was too much. All of it was too much. He had just casually told her that he had loved her her entire life, but it felt like rewriting history. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true, because…

“How long did you wait to get involved with that woman?,” she wondered. His eyes went wide and she pressed on, finding herself on firmer ground, “Tell me, Jon. While I was at home crying my eyes out, unable to tell if I was mourning the loss of my Dad or of _you_ , how long did it take you? A week? Two?,” she laughed harshly in disbelief, “You seem to think it’s all so obvious.”

“Well it _is_ a bit obvious,” he argued, “ _Damn it,_ Sansa. I was trying to get over you. I got _so_ close, once again, and then it was all just snatched away and I was just…”

“Horny?,” she spat.

“Lonely,” he spat back. And then start, "And she was..."

“Beautiful,” she supplied.

“Determined,” he finished.

They stood in silence for a few moments. She thought about what he said. Over these past months she had imagined a hundred different reasons that he’d stayed away, but his own broken heart had never been one of them.

She looked over at him and if was possible for the first time in her life he looked small. Almost like a boy.

She remembered him as one, eight or nine, anxiously awaiting a soon-coming growth spurt. She remembered that his knees were always bloody from falling.

Theon and Robb ran faster, but Jon had always run _harder_. As though he knew he’d always have to work more to get the things that he wanted. As though he could never rely on being enough just as he was. Nothing fostered self-doubt quite like being denied the things you wanted.

She knew something about that.

So she had to ask, “Did you love her?”

He looked scared, so scared. She tried to keep her face like the porcelain mask she’d long since abandoned. She could disguise her truth if it revealed his.

“I wanted to,” he half-answered, then amended, “I convinced myself that I did. For a little while.”

Someone came out of the bar, engulfing them briefly in the ambient noise emanating from the crowded room. She looked over, through the window, and saw Myrcella and Robb talking. Identical grins were on their faces, their eyes never leaving each others. They could have been in the room all on their own, for all of the attention either of them paid to the buzz around them.

“They make it look so easy,” she said.

“Maybe it is, for some people,” he reasoned.

“Why not us?,” she couldn’t help but wonder.

“Some loves make you strong,” he offered, “Others make you weak.”

“Is it love’s fault, really? Or does it just show us who we are?,” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he allowed.

“I made you weak?,” she asked and his silence told her everything. She nodded, “Well. We can’t have that.”

“Sansa…,” he pleaded.

“No. Look… I’m not mad. Okay? You wanted to explain yourself, and you did. But where does any of it leave us?,” she asked.

“In love,” he suggested, with a self-deprecating half smile and a crinkle of his eyes.

She shrugged, “Well apparently we’ve always been in love. I’m honestly not sure that it matters all that much.”

“How can you say that?,” he asked.

“Really Jon,” she sighed, “After all that’s happened… how could I not?”

He nodded at that and they stood in silence. The door to the bar opened once again and Myrcella came out with Robb.

“Sansa, I’m so sorry, I…’m the worst,” her friend lamented, clearly thinking of the promise she’d made that morning.

Sansa swiped under her eyes to make sure there were no remnants of tears, and then teased, “Oh don’t worry, we know.”

Myrcella grinned and studiously didn’t look at Jon before she held out her hand, “Come back inside, it’s freezing. I’ll buy you a drink.”

Sansa nodded and walked towards her, taking Myrcella’s hand. Her friend pulled her towards the door and Sansa turned around and looked at Jon.

“Coming?,” she asked him.

She felt everyone’s eyes on her but it was Jon’s she was looking at. He almost turned around, as though he was going to check for someone behind him.

“Me?,” he asked.

“Yeah,” she agreed. She’d prefer not to say this in front of Robb and Myrcella but she wasn’t sure that she’d have the strength otherwise, and it would stop her from having to say it three times. “You reminded me of something…”

“What?,” he wondered.

“We’ve always been in each others lives,” she said, “We found a way before. I think we should try to again.”

“As… what?,” he asked.

She actually _heard_ Myrcella’s intake of breath and squeezed her hand.

“Friends,” she offered with more confidence.

Jon was silent for a moment and to her surprise it was Robb who cut in, “Take the deal, man. She won’t offer it twice.”

“Friends,” Jon nodded, “Okay.”

“But _inside_ ,” Myrcella cut the tension, “It is so so cold.”

“Oh my god you’re such a Southerner,” Sansa lamented.

“Seriously, Ella,” Robb agreed.

“Swimming weather,” Jon noted.

Myrcella looked at the three of them and shook her head, “You know what? I’m not sure how much _I_ like this.”

“Oh Baratheon,” Jon offered, wrapping his arm around Myrcella’s shoulders, “You’re just gonna have to get used to it.”

“Okay,” Myrcella smiled at him and then at her. Sansa smiled back to let her know that it was okay, really. Or at least that it would be. Myrcella nodded and then shivered and repeated once again, “But _inside_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so what do we think?


	12. Chapter 12

Somehow, by the time the leaves had started falling off the trees, football on Sundays had become a bit of a tradition for her.

The guest list always changed. Sometimes a hungover Shireen would come and drink bloody mary’s and complain about the yelling. Sometimes Tommy would tag along and Jon and Robb would feed him too much beer until they left to get some pizza in him. Theon and Gendry sometimes. Even Sam. Or Tormund.

But always, Jon and Robb.

At first she’d been afraid, that she’d be in the way. That first time had been full of purpose, but after that it had just sort of happened. She’d been worried, the second time she went that Jon would feel like his time with his best friend was being encroached on.

She’d soon learned though that wasn’t Jon’s way. He’d spent that second game explaining the actual rules. Her father and Joffrey had never bothered and Uncle Jaime wasn’t one for football. Gendry would have if she’d asked but she’d never given any indication she cared.

Jon had such a steady way about him though, and never made her feel silly for asking questions. At first she just humored him, for Robb’s sake. And then on the fourth Sunday their team fumbled the ball and she felt it.

_She was annoyed._ She was annoyed that a bunch of overpaid athletes who didn’t mean squat to her had dropped the ball. But in her defense _It was in his hands!_

She’d always shouted at the television, but soon the things she was shouting actually made sense. It made it more fun. When they won anyway.

No, even when they didn’t. She started to look forward to it. One day she showed up and there was a box on her seat. She looked between Jon and Robb but Jon just sipped his beer and Robb’s excited _open it!_ told her he had no idea what was inside.

It was a jersey. It was a little big and the colors were all wrong on her but it didn’t matter.

She wore it now with a pair of jeans and her hair up in a ponytail. Robb had gone out to Winterfell that morning to handle some paperwork with his Mom and would be meeting her here.

She walked inside and grabbed their usual table, neither Jon or Robb were here. She caught the eye of the bartender and waved and he nodded at her so she took off her coat and checked her phone.

_Sansa: Is that weird? A date on a Sunday?_

Myrcella texted back _It’s just coffee, don’t overthink it._

“Hey, is this seat taken?,” someone asked.

Myrcella looked up and saw a reasonably attractive guy with the most peculiar - and jarring - blue eyes she’d ever seen.

“Yes, I’m saving it,” she said, “Sorry.”

“Saving it,” he repeated, looking at her in a way that made her wish she’d kept her coat on. “But it’s not in use _now_.”

Her brow furrowed, not wanting him to think he could take the chair given that Robb and Jon would be walking in at any moment.

“Well, no b-,” she started.

“Good, then,” he said and to her utter surprise, he sat down.

She wasn’t unused to guys hitting on her, and usually it was fine. She knew it took courage to approach someone. That being said, it only took arrogance not to get the hint.

“Oh, listen I’m sorry but I’m actually -,” she started and then felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Waiting for someone,” she heard Jon’s familiar voice say. He bent down and kissed her cheek, “Sorry I’m late.”

“Not a problem,” she breathed more easily.

The guy looked between her and Jon and smirked, “Him? He’s your boyfriend?”

She was about to give the guy a piece of her mind when Jon said, “Nope. I’m his best friend, but uh, either way, she’s not interested so… you can fuck off.”

Myrcella fought the urge to roll her eyes. She was used to the toxic masculinity in this pub but it rarely made its way to her table.

“Who says she’s not interested?,” the guy asked.

“Um… I do,” she noted.

The guy turned to her and in spite of herself she was glad that Jon was standing right behind her. There was something in the look that went beyond the usual dickishness she had come to understand was beckoned by rejection. Something darker and more dangerous, the reason girls walked with keys between their fingers and why she didn’t run alone at night.

Jon saw it too and stepped away from her and then in front, “Mate, move along.”

“And if I don’t want to?,” the guy asked.

She stood up and grabbed her coat and then tugged Jon by the arm, “Come on. We can go watch at my apartment.”

“Oh good idea, I’ll come,” the guy said standing up as well.

It happened rather quickly but Jon pushed the guy, who fell back into the chair laughing and before she had time to do anything else, Jon was guiding her out of the pub.

They got outside and she pulled her coat on.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed.

“For what?,” Jon asked. “You didn’t do anything.”

“You love that pub, it’s your Sunday place,” she reminded him.

He smirked and shook his head, “No uh, my Sunday place is with Robb… wow that sounds _really_ weird. Doesn’t it?”

She hooked her arm through his, “I think it’s sweet.” He pulled her closer to him and she rested her cheek against his arm. “On our first date I asked him about the loyalty between you two. I asked if it said more about him, or more about you.”

“And what did he say?,” Jon wondered.

“He said he didn’t know. _I_ thought he was covering for you,” she admitted and Jon chuckled. “But now I get it. His loyalty… yours… they’re indistinguishable. Like the roots of two trees that grew together so long ago, to remove one would be to destroy them both.”

“A bit poetic for the likes of us,” he noted.

“I don’t think so,” she disagreed. He looked down at her and she looked up at him. “The way you grew up. The way you all grew up. The people you all are now… _the stuff of legends_.”

His eyes crinkled at her but he didn’t say anything. He hailed them a taxi to take them back to her apartment. As they got in she texted Robb to let him know to meet them there.

Sansa had texted again with two different outfit options and she sent back her vote and some words of encouragement.

Jon was looking over at her and realizing she was being rude, she put her phone in the pocket of her coat.

“He on his way?,” he asked.

“…Yes,” she said after a too long moment.

Jon squinted slightly and turned back to the window, “What’s she up to?”

The lines had yet to fully be drawn. Or perhaps they had been and then new lines were drawn on top constantly, in an ever changing pattern.

The point was, she and her friends didn’t exactly yet understand the rules of Jon and Sansa 2.0.

For all intents and purposes they were now friends. Nobody batted an eyelash at inviting either or both out. They’d both been at Winterfell last weekend when Robb had taken her to meet his Mom and two younger brothers. They’d been at her apartment on Wednesday night to watch the debate, and Sansa had made extra popcorn when Jon threw all of his at the screen.

Friends.

Friends who never sat next to one another or were in a room alone. Friends who only laughed politely when the rest of them teased the one, never joining in. Friends who looked everywhere but towards the other, for fear of never turning away again.

“She’s going out for coffee,” she told him, which was the truth but precious little of it. He turned to look at her as though he knew it, so she admitted, “With Dickon.”

His eyes settled and he nodded slowly. He then cocked his head to the side once, as though fighting with himself before turning away, back to the window.

She wasn’t sure if she should apologize to him. Lying seemed futile, in a friend group such as theirs, and it wasn’t in her nature besides. Even still, she took no pleasure in being the messenger of such news.

They drove in silence for the remainder of the way and then the taxi pulled up in front of her building. They got out and waved to the doorman and got in the elevator. She pressed 23 and glanced over at Jon. He was standing there with his jaw clenched.

“Jon…,” she started.

He shook his head, “I thought he was half in love with _you_.”

She grimaced, “Hardly. And besides, I’m taken.”

“So she’s what?,” he questioned, “His second choice?”

“Well,” she shrugged, “That makes them even, I suppose.”

He shook his head, “We’re just…”

“Friends, yeah. I know,” she nodded, “As made clear by this very friendly reaction you’re having.”

He glared at her and she gave him a _well?_ sort of a look and he sighed and nodded. The elevator doors opened and she lead him to her door.

They walked inside and Ser Pounce came around immediately, his front paws propped up on her leg. She bent down to pick him up and then she heard _giggling._

She looked at Jon whose brow furrowed and he whispered, “Does Tommy have a girl here?”

She saw Tommy’s open door and she shook her head and whispered back, “ _That’s Shireen_.”

Jon’s eyes went comically wide and Ser Pounce _meowed_ and she idiotically covered his mouth with her hand. She and Jon were both entirely silent and then they heard a squeal and another giggle.

“ _Should we leave?_ ,” Jon asked.

“ _Maybe,_ ” she whispered back.

She was lowering Ser Pounce to the floor when Shireen’s door opened. She still had a smile on her face and hair was mussed as she walked into the living room.

All at once she saw them and stopped dead in her tracks, the smile dying on her lips.

“Hey,” Myrcella offered as casually as she was able.

Shireen, not casual _or_ subtle glanced nervously back at her bedroom before saying back to her, far too loudly, “Hey El.”

Jon mumbled something under his breath and Myrcella elbowed him.

“Is…someone here?,” she asked.

“Uhm…,” Shireen said, blushing.

That was so weird. She and Shireen told one another anything. There was nothing Shireen would ever have to be ashamed of, not even -

“Is…is it _Harry_?,” she whisper-accused.

“What? No!,” Shireen said unconvincingly.

Myrcella’s blood boiled, “I’m going to murder him,” she said and then shook her head, and said more loudly, “No. Better yet, I am going to chop his balls off and put them in a smoothie!”

She started heading towards Shireen’s room but Jon came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, picking her up off the floor.

“Let _go_ of me!,” she was arguing, and then shouting, “You hear me!?! I’m going to chop your balls off! Say good _bye!_ ”

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah,” a terrified guy said as he came out into the living room, his hands protectively in front of his crotch, “Let’s just… cool it with the balls in a blender stuff…”

She was thankful in that moment that Jon was holding her, because she absolutely would have fallen if he hadn’t been. As it stood, she stopped fighting him and Jon stopped pulling her away.

“ _Theon_?!,” they both asked in tandem.

Theon waved sheepishly, “Hey Jon…Myrcella…”

“Myrcella, can I put you down or are you still feeling a little _blender-y_ ,” Jon asked.

“Give me another minute,” she said honestly.

“You got it,” Jon nodded, tightening his grip. Then asked for her, “So you guys are…what?”

“Friends,” Theon and Shireen said in tandem.

Myrcella looked up to the heavens and let out a groan, “For fucks sake.”

“We _are_!,” Shireen argued and then gestured to her and Theon, “You see? Fully dressed. Me? Dressed. Theon? Dressed. We were just… hanging out.”

“How often do you guys…,” Jon started, “Hang out… on your own… in your room?”

Theon shrugged, “A few times a week.”

She nodded and then tapped Jon’s arm so that he knew she was good to be let down. He lowered her gently and released her.

She shouldn’t be that surprised. More often than not, on a night out, or a night in, Theon and Shireen ended up near one another.

She had been the only one hoping it was leading somewhere. Robb and Sansa were not fans of the idea of the two of them dating, having seen Theon’s antics for far too long. Myrcella trusted their judgment but… she also trusted Theon. He had become a good friend, and she liked the way he looked at Shireen. The way he always made her feel good about herself.

She had hoped it meant more.

She looked at Theon as he ran his hand through his hair. She wondered how many girls he’d ever just spent time with. None, most likely.

So maybe the fact that he was spending that much time with Shireen _not_ hooking up, meant more than if they had been.

“We’re going to watch the game,” she said. “Do you guys feel like pizza?”

Theon nodded, “Sounds good.”

Shireen smiled, “I’ll order.”

Jon shook his head, “Why don’t you wait a sec? I’m going to Arya’s to see if she wants to come over.”

They all nodded and he left the apartment. Myrcella hung up her coat in the hall closet and kicked off her shoes before settling on one of the couches with Ser Pounce.

Shireen came and sat next to her and Myrcella placed her legs on her cousin’s lap. Theon took a seat on the other couch and turned on the television.

A second later Jon came back in and sat down on the couch in silence.

Shireen grabbed out her phone and she looked at Jon, “Well?…,” Jon looked at her, “Is she coming?”

Jon grimaced at something and then nodded, “Yeah… and so is Gendry.”

She and Shireen looked at each other and then clarified, “He’s over there?”

“Mmhm,” Jon confirmed.

Theon looked at her and grinned and then asked, “Are… they…”

Jon grabbed the remote from Theon’s hand and angrily started changing the channel. All of their eyes were on him, and after a long moment he finally said, “Let’s just say… they aren’t just friends.”

She and Shireen started squealing and Theon started dying of laughter. A few minutes later, Arya came in with a bashful Gendry trailing her. A little while later Robb buzzed up and he walked in holding a homemade cake his Mom had sent with him and he sat on the couch behind her, his fingers playing with her hair. At halftime she and Shireen got a text from Sansa, telling them the date had gone well and asking if they were home.

The pizza was eaten and then the cake. Their team was winning on screen, and as Myrcella looked around the room, at Shireen and Theon flirting as they did the dishes and Gendry getting the confidence to put his arm around Arya, as Sansa actually sat next to Jon, and Robb spent the whole night by her side, it felt like, at least for now, her team was winning off the field too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh okay so I wanted a lot of this to come out in the last ch but wit the Jonsa of it all I felt like it was too complicated.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh oh my gosh I reread this one last night/this morning and I just HAD to update it. I hope you've all stuck around!!

Sansa’s phone buzzed on her vanity. She looked at it and it was Myrcella: _We’re here, take your time though._

Sansa was basically ready so she spritzed her perfume and grabbed her phone, shoving it in her bag and then pulled on her coat. She ran back into her room to make sure she’d unplugged her curling iron and then locked up her apartment, walking the couple of flights down.

She saw her Dad’s old car parked in front of her building and saw the back of Myrcella’s golden head in the front seat. Sansa knocked on the window and Myrcella turned and grinned, lowering the window.

“Going my way?” she asked.

“Wherever you go, I go,” Myrcella promised. Then looked at her, “Is that all you are bringing?”

Sansa looked down at her oversized handbag that she’d thrown a few things into and shrugged, “Well I still have a closet at Winterfell.”

“Right,” Myrcella nodded.

“Why? What did you bring?” Sansa wondered.

“Oh, just take a look in the back,” Robb grinned.

Myrcella turned to give him a piece of her mind and Sansa got in the back seat and looked behind her. It wasn’t _quite_ as bad as Robb suggested, it really was a small suitcase. Not a carry on, but a small one.

“Moving in?” she teased Myrcella anyway and Robb made a victorious little laugh from the driver’s seat.

“We are doing _snow_ activities, all different _types_ of activities and I didn’t want to sit around in soggy pants! That’s how you get pneumonia,” Myrcella informed them both.

“Right,” Robb agreed, “See I _didn’t_ think about that. But at least you brought enough that if the whole party didn’t either we can all dress out of your suitcase.”

“Oh, just drive,” Myrcella grumbled.

Robb’s eyes met hers in the rearview mirror and both grinned. He pulled away from the curb and settled into the Friday afternoon traffic. They’d all taken the afternoon off of work, and we’re heading out to Winterfell for the weekend for Robb’s birthday. There was a whole caravan of them coming out separately.

“Can we get coffee?” Sansa asked from the back.

“Ooh yeah,” Myrcella agreed, “Drip is just around the corner.”

Robb sighed, “The line for it will take as long as the drive.” Myrcella turned to look at him and he looked at her and then at Sansa. He sighed again. “It’s this next right, right?”

Sansa bit her lip to hide her smile as Myrcella agreed. Robb took the right and they were saved his grumbling when he got a space right outside. She and Myrcella ran in, leaving Robb to make a call and got in the very short line.

“How’d that pitch go?” she asked Myrcella.

Her friend shrugged, “They’ll push us on the deal, but I think we’ll get it. Is everything set for tomorrow?”

Sansa nodded excitedly, “All set.”

Myrcella grimaced, “And your Mom won’t mind? Me stealing him for a bit?”

“No she’ll have me and Arya,” Sansa assured her, “And Jon and Theon too. And besides…with this being Robb’s first birthday since…-“ she broke off and Myrcella took her hand. She let out a deep breath, “Everyone just wants it to be as nice as possible for him.”

Myrcella let out an excited, nervous breath and Sansa squeezed her hand. She hadn’t meant to put any pressure on her, they all just wanted it to be perfect. Robb took such care of everyone, and they all wanted to give it back to him.

Their Dad had never been the _throw a party for 500 of your closest friends_ kind of guy, but he’d always made their birthdays special. Their Mom was always in charge of the _fun_ gift but he always found something that would tug at your heartstrings, just something small that told you that even though he had five kids and a business to run, and a milieu of other responsibilities, he had spent time thinking of you, and he knew you so very well.

“And I know it will be,” she assured her.

Myrcella smiled and they ordered their drinks and one for Robb. Myrcella also ordered two pounds of ground coffee to bring to her Mom. She never went to Winterfell empty handed and sometimes Sansa would be there and compliment something and her Mom would say _Oh Myrcella found this, isn’t it darling?_

Their drinks were ready quickly and they walked back out to the car. Myrcella told her to sit in the front seat, claiming she had some emails to write in the back.

Myrcella must have noticed Robb’s slight pout because she leaned forward and kissed his cheek, “I promise these are the _last_ of the weekend. And then every moment of every day _and night_ is going to be devoted to celebrating you.”

“Every moment?” Robb grinned. Myrcella nodded and he said, “Well then you just do what you have to, sweetheart.”

She and Myrcella chuckled and Robb waited for Myrcella to get settled into her seat before pulling away from the curb. Sansa sipped her latte as she and Robb caught up on their weeks. Come the summer she would be taking a junior place on the board of her family’s company so Robb had been slowly bringing her into the fold.

It flexed a different muscle than the creative aspects of her job, but she was grateful to be included and wanted to do well for her Dad. She knew that certain people on the board would look at it as just an honorary position, but she wanted to add value and she knew Robb wanted that too.

He walked her through a potential deal he was setting up, and he was so patient with her as she asked questions, his eyes lightening up when she’d asked a particularly clever one.

As they neared the exit for Winterfell she turned around to see Myrcella sitting in the back, sipping her drink.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were still working,” Sansa explained. “This must be awfully boring for you.”

Myrcella smiled, “No. It’s not. I love listening to the two of you. You’re going to be such a great addition, Dovey.”

“Really?” she asked.

Myrcella nodded and glanced towards Robb, “He can’t wait.”

Sansa turned to look at Robb and he glanced briefly at her before switching into the right lane so that he could exit.

“I miss working with another Stark,” he explained. “And Dad would be really proud of how seriously you’re taking this. I know I am.”

Sansa felt her heart swell in her chest. She and Robb had always been close but she’d been intimidated at first by the idea. Robb had been trained for this his whole life, and he’d taken over the helm so decisively and impressively when their Dad passed. She knew she’d never compete with him, and she didn’t want to, but she did want to help.

Robb pulled off the highway and drove slowly down the back roads. He turned down the long drive to Winterfell and Sansa smiled looking out over their land. The snow in the city had turned to the grey muck but here it was pristine.

She was looking forward to cross-country skiing in the morning, her favorite outdoor winter activity. Myrcella and Shireen had told her they wanted to try so they’d gotten a small party together for it to leave right after breakfast.

Tonight would be just drinks and a casual dinner and tomorrow afternoon they’d set up for the more formal party while Myrcella took Robb off on her own. Sunday would be recovery, a day of movies and good food, before they all made their way back to the city to start their weeks.

Her Mom was so excited to have a house full of people and Bran and Rickon had been like little puppies when she’d spoken to them that week.

She hadn’t wanted to put pressure on Myrcella, but Sansa felt pressure all the same. It felt, to her anyway, that everyone was relying on this weekend to lift the final black veil over all of them.

It would be difficult of course in a few weeks on the anniversary of their Dad’s death, but she hoped that this could nudge them all in the right direction.

To her surprise, it seemed as though they were the last to arrive. There were a couple of cars in the drive and they all got out of the car excitedly – though they’d seen most everyone this week.

“Hellooooo,” Robb called as they entered the house.

“Robb!” “The Birthday boy!” “Good to see you, mate!” chorused from a number of different places.

Robb grinned widely, all he ever wanted on his birthday was to be with the people he loved. He’d never been one much for presents, for himself anyway.

Their Mom came and greeted all of them, ushering them inside and she and Myrcella broke off to say their hellos as well.

Sansa went up to her room to drop off her bag and plug in her laptop, placing the few things she’d brought in the closet to hang. She brushed her teeth to banish any coffee breath and then headed back into the hall to return to the madness.

Jon was exiting his room as well and smiled briefly when he saw her.

“Hey,” he greeted her, “I didn’t know you guys got here.”

“Just a few minutes ago,” she told him, trying to breathe normally. She never had to think about her breathing unless she was standing in his presence. “You?”

“About an hour ago,” he said, “Gilly’s train got in around 1.”

Sansa smiled, she hadn’t yet seen Gilly either. Her new friend was officially moving to Wintertown, and after a little light begging from her and Myrcella, had agreed to come for the weekend.

“She get in alright?” she asked.

Jon nodded, “Fit as a fiddle. Think um… well this is a lot though.”

Sansa nodded, “I imagine so. We’ll watch out for her.”

“Yeah,” Jon agreed, “She said as much.”

“Should we…,” Sansa gestured vaguely towards the stairs.

“Yeah,” Jon agreed.

She walked by him when he made no effort to move and started walking towards the stairs. She could hear laughter below and was eager to join the madding crowd, where it was safe.

“No Dickon?” Jon asked behind her.

She stopped dead in her tracks, “No, of course not.”

“Why of course not?” he asked.

“Because we’ve been on three date in four weeks,” she noted. “Hardly a runaway romance.”

“I heard he’s asked for more,” Jon said quietly.

She could hear it though, in his voice. A bit of victory. Smugness, even.

Sansa turned around, “And?”

Jon shrugged, “It’s nice to see Dickon Tarly put in his place from time to time.”

She rolled her eyes, “Don’t be petty. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Is it petty?” he wondered, and then looked at her, “To not want to watch the girl you love with a guy you can’t stand? They must have expanded the definition.”

“Jon we agreed-“

“I know what we agreed,” he noted, “We’re friends. Fine. I never promised to stop loving you.”

She felt her knees go weak and her heart ached. He was so beautiful standing there, angry and devoted and impossible.

“You can’t say things like that to me,” she told him. “That isn’t _friendship_.”

“Neither is us tip-toeing around each other. Sansa, you can’t even be alone with me for more than thirty seconds,” he noted and then looked at her, stepping closer. She felt like a caged animal, cornered with nowhere to go. “And the only question is: Why?”

“Why what?” she asked, her chin jutting forward.

“Why,” he stepped even closer to her. She could smell him, he was close enough to touch. Her body was fighting her mind and it took every ounce of strength to look him in the eye. “Why can’t you be alone with me?”

“I’m alone with you right now,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, and in above five seconds you’re going to flee,” he told her, “So I’m asking you _now_. Can you not stand to be alone with me because you’re still mad at me? Or can you not stand to be alone with me because you’re afraid of what will happen if you are?”

_Both_.

“What’s gotten into you?” she asked. “This isn’t like you.”

“Well being _like me_ hasn’t really worked out too well in the past. I didn’t fight for you last time,” he said and shrugged. “And it’s haunted me ever since. So, if I’m really going to lose you, for good, I don’t want it to be because I didn’t try.”

A chorus of laughter rose up from downstairs and they both turned towards the stairs.

“We should…,” she said.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “You go. I’ll meet you down there in a minute.”

She nodded and walked towards the stairs, feeling his eyes on her as she walked away. She stopped at the top of the stairs, her mind flashing back to those things she’d said in the car.

“I didn’t fight for you either,” she admitted. She took a deep breath and looked at him, “It’s nice that one of us is brave enough to try.”

His eyes widened and he asked, his voice soft in disbelief, “So, I shouldn’t stop, then?”

She placed her hand on the bannister, wondering where on earth she got the gall from.

“Dickon’s asked me to dinner this week,” she told him, a glimmer in her eye, “You have two days to convince me to say no.”

She had never been one for games, certainly not with him, but her eyes caught on his smile as she turned to walk down the stairs.

_Oh Sansa,_ she thought to herself, _Always the overachiever. The first time you choose to play, you play with fire._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👀


	14. Chapter 14

“See you all _laterrr_ ,” she called to the happy little elves setting up the house.

Sansa blew her a kiss and Shireen made her promise to be back by five to advise on wardrobe and everyone else waved and called out _have fun_ and all the rest.

“Ready?” she asked Robb.

He handed her his keys with a grin and then offered her his hand. She took it, interlacing their fingers and leaned her cheek against his arm.

“So where are we going?” he asked as they got outside.

She rolled her eyes, “If you didn’t get it out of me this morning doing that thing you do, do you really think you’ll get it out of me now?”

He grinned, “Well are you taking me somewhere where I can do that thing I do again?”

She laughed, “It would _probably_ be frowned upon where we are going.” Then tilted her head up and he obliged and pressed a kiss to her lips. She promised, “But later on I’m going to do that thing _I_ do again. Upside down.”

He grabbed her and kissed her more fiercely, walking her backwards to his car. In spite of the cold his jacket was unzipped and she crawled inside of it, wrapping her arms around his waist and kissing him again and again.

“Tell me,” he grinned, kissing her again. “Tell me, or I’ll tickle you.”

She pulled out of his arms and jogged away from him, “Don’t you dare.”

He started stalking towards her and she picked up snow and turned it into a snowball.

“Don’t make me do this,” she said backing away, “Not on your birthday.”

He chuckled and held his hands up, turning around to head to the car. She trusted Robb Stark with her life. And yet. She didn’t drop the snowball.

Which was good because he turned quickly and made to run at her and she threw it on instinct, catching him right in the face with it.

His face turned into an expression of shock and he wiped the snow from his face.

“On. My. Birthday?” he asked.

“You forced my hand,” she pointed out.

“That thing you do upside down?” he asked.

She blushed and nodded, “Twice if you can take it.”

“You’re forgiven, for anything you’ve ever done and anything you ever will do,” he proclaimed heading towards the car.

She got in the driver’s seat and made direct eye contact with him as she adjusted the seat. It took a while and he cracked first, chuckling as she continued to move forward until her feet could touch the pedals.

Once they were settled in she pulled down the long drive. She’d been where they were going the weekend before so she knew the way and Robb’s teasing stopped as she drove them along.

She was glad for it, because she was nervous. She’d never really been a girlfriend before and this was an important birthday, her first with him, and far more importantly, the first without his Dad.

She felt his eyes on her and smiled, “What?”

“You’ve really improved,” he told her. “I’m going to make you drive more often, so I can sit here and admire the view.”

“I love it out here,” she agreed. “Someday I’m going to own my own little cottage in the country.”

“All by your little lonesome?” he asked. “But what about the bears?”

She giggled, “I’ll keep some honey around.”

He leaned across the divide and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, “Or I could come and keep you safe.”

“Oh? And are you an experienced bear fighter?” she teased.

“No no no,” he shook his head, “But I’m very good at distractions.”

She smiled, biting her lip, “You can visit then.”

“Good, and the view I was talking about wasn’t the countryside, by the way,” he told her.

“I know,” she laughed, reaching out and tweaking his nose, “But I decided to save you from your corniness.”

“Oh, that’s a lost cause,” he sighed.

She grinned and he caught her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. Her heart swelled in her chest and she put the blinker on so that she could turn off the main road.

They stopped in front of a charming white house with green shutters, a swing hanging from a large tree in the front yard.

“Is this your cottage?” he asked her with a grin.

“Yep,” she agreed, glancing at him, “Nervous?”

“Terrified,” he teased.

They got out of the car and she took him by the hand, leading him up the front steps. She rang the doorbell and an adorable little girl with pigtails opened it.

“ _Ella!_ ” her little voice cried.

“Hi Sadie,” she grinned, bending down and the little girl gave her a hug. She didn’t let go so Myrcella picked her up and settled her against her hip. “This is my friend Robb that I was telling you about.”

“Hello Robb,” Sadie said, holding out her hand for him to shake.

From the way Robb was looking at the little girl, Myrcella was a little afraid his uterus was going to explode.

“Hello Sadie,” Robb smiled, shaking her hand. “Thank you very much for having us.”

Myrcella ignored the explosion in _her_ uterus.

“Of course!” Sadie exclaimed, “Come on back you’re gonna _die_.”

Robb glanced at her and Myrcella said, “You’ll be maimed at most.”

His lips twitched, “Lead the way.”

She set Sadie down and the little girl took her hand and lead her into the living room. Her parents were there and they said there hellos, and then told them Sadie would take them back. If Robb found it odd that a four year old was giving them a tour of her home he wasn’t saying it, following along behind and keeping up with Sadie’s rapid chatter.

“Are you _ready_?” Sadie all but jumped up and down, covering her mouth in excitement.

Myrcella wiggled too, and actually did jump up and down, “Are you _ready_?”

Robb chuckled, “How could I say no?”

Her stomach churned and she held his arm, “You can. Say no. Nothing is done… this is exploratory.”

He smiled at her, “I’m ready.”

Sadie wasn’t going to wait around for him to change his mind and opened the door, revealing utter chaos.

“I love you,” Robb breathed out as the door opened and walked inside, leaving her in the hallway and a state of shock. She watched as he sat right down on the floor, “Oh my…”

All at once, four puppies were crawling all over him. She’d gotten the idea about a month ago when they’d been at Winterfell. Robb was laying on the floor in front of the fire, spooning with Shaggydog, telling her about his old dog Grey Wind who he’d had as a boy. There was such love in his tone as he spoke of him, the absolute loyalty of a dog. She’d never had one, but she loved the companionship Ser Pounce gave her.

The next day she started researching breeders but wasn’t having much luck as most of their litters were born in the spring, and then when she’d been running errands a couple of weeks prior, she’d met Sadie and her Mom and they’d told her about the puppies their dog had given birth to. She’d asked Sansa and Jon and they’d both agreed it was the perfect gift and readily swore themselves to secrecy.

She stepped into the room and knelt down on the floor. A puppy came right over to her, she recognized him from the week before. He had beautiful, distinctive markings, and he’d been the one that had sat in her lap for much of her visit.

“Oh hello you little fellow,” she greeted him, picking him up and letting him lick her face, “I remember you too.”

Robb had two of his sisters and one of his brothers still crawling all over him, but this one curled up against her chest, leaning his little head on her shoulder.

“So, Sadie here wanted to get the look of you,” Myrcella explained. “They aren’t breeders, so they just want to make sure the puppies are going to good homes. So the real present, if Sadie approves and you want one, is the care the puppy would get in the city. I’ve found some… doggy day care groups? I’d never heard of such a thing, to keep the puppy occupied during the day when you’re at work. And when its trained I figured you could take it to the office, since you allow some of your employees to do so. But… only if you want to. And Sadie approves, of course.”

Robb smiled at her but turned to Sadie, “Any questions you have for me?”

She nodded, “Mommy and I made a list.”

She scampered away and Robb’s eyes followed her.

Myrcella reminded him, “We’re here to _maybe_ adopt one of the puppies, not her.”

“She’s such a button though,” he whimpered.

“I know,” Myrcella agreed.

She came back in and sat down in her lap, “Ella you read them.”

Myrcella glanced at Robb and had to look away quickly because of the look in his eyes. She read the list and smiled.

“These are very good questions,” she assured Sadie. “Robb. If you were to have one of these puppies, how many kisses would you give it every day?”

Robb narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, thinking about it, “Probably a million.”

Sadie gasped so she did too. Sadie pointed to the next question on the list.

“Would you take it to the vet if it was sick?” she asked.

“Of course,” Robb promised, “Even if they just had the sniffles.”

Sadie giggled and Myrcella nodded as she pointed at the next question, “And what, please tell us, would you do if the puppy was afraid of thunderstorms?” Sadie tapped next to it and she added, “Because some dogs are, you know.”

“Ohh I know,” Robb agreed. “That’s a very thoughtful question, Sadie. Very clever, you’re really putting me through my paces. Well I guess I’d let the puppy settle where it felt safe and stay with it until the storm passed.”

Myrcella looked at him and Robb glanced at her. The puppy started licking her cheek and she laughed and then looked down at Sadie.

“So, Sadie, what say you? Did he pass?” she asked.

“Oh yes,” she agreed solemnly, looking at Robb, “You did very well.”

Robb chuckled, “Thank you. So, I get my pick of the litter, then?”

Sadie nodded but then crawled forward and pointed to one of the female puppies, “Just maybe not her.”

“Not her, hmm?” Robb asked, petting the puppy. “Is this one yours?”

“If she doesn’t get adopted, I get to keep her,” Sadie explained.

Robb picked up the puppy and settled her against Sadie, “You two are made for each other. And besides… I’ve got my eye on another one.”

Sadie started wiggling, “Which one?”

“I want a smart dog,” Robb explained, “So I think I’d have to go with the one smart enough to love our Ella. What do you think?”

Sadie looked back at her, a huge smile on her face, “Yeah. He’s going to be a great doggy-dog.”

“I think so too,” Robb agreed.

“Really?” she smiled, pressing a kiss to the puppy’s head, and handing him to Robb, “You haven’t even held him.”

Robb took him and the puppy settled against his chest. Robb looked down at the puppy and he took advantage and licked Robb’s nose.

“Oh yes,” Robb agreed, “I think he’s the one.”

“EEEEEEEEEE,” Sadie hopped up, “I’m going to tell Mommy.”

She ran out of the room and Myrcella watched as Robb smiled down at the puppy in his arms, tickling its tummy until the puppy started stretching out his arms to play back.

“You can think about it tonight,” she told him. “With the party being tonight I told Sadie’s Mom that if you wanted to we’d come back in the morning.”

“That’s a good idea, too much commotion tonight,” Robb said.

“So…,” she said.

“It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” he told her, and when he looked up at her she knew he meant it. “But you’re not paying for the play group or whatever it is. Your gift was thinking of this.”

“No! It’s my treat,” she said.

“No deal,” he said. Then held the puppy up so that its cheek was against his. “Come on Ella, are you _really_ going to make us leave this little guy here because you’re too stubborn?”

“That’s so unfair,” she laughed.

“Too bad,” he grinned, pressing a kiss to the puppy’s head. “He’s so cute.”

“And he’s definitely the one you want?” she prodded.

“Yeah,” he said, “Definitely. No contest.”

Sadie’s mom Pat came back and she introduced Robb to her more formally. They talked about a few logistics, vaccinations and the type of food he’d been eating and that sort of thing, and then agreed to return at 10:30 the next morning to pick him up.

After a lot of kisses to the puppy and a few hugs to Sadie they left the house and walked hand in hand to the car. Robb got in the driver’s seat after depositing her in the passengers.

“Are they expecting us back?” he asked.

She looked at the clock, “Not for a little while. I have to be back in an hour to advise on Shireen’s outfit.”

“Oh?” he grinned, “Do we think tonight is the night?”

She smiled, “I think Mr. Greyjoy may be in for an evening.”

He chuckled, “I’ve never seen him resist this long before. Or at all.”

“It’s so romantic,” she melted, “He cares about her so much. It terrifies him.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, looking over at her, “I get that.”

She blushed and he leaned forward and kissed her briefly before turning back to the road and starting the car. He pulled back onto the main street and drove them away from town.

“Wowwww,” she grinned, “This view _is_ rather nice.”

He chuckled, “Corn ball.”

“Can I help it if my boyfriend is the most gorgeous, sweetest, wonderfulest man in the whole world?” she wondered.

“I love my birthday,” he teased.

“Aww, poor baby, do I neglect you most of the time?” she asked.

“It’s a wonder I even get out of bed in the morning,” he lamented, his hand squeezing her thigh in that slow comforting way that gentled her heart.

He pulled off the road down a narrow lane and then onto an even narrower drive. There stood a two-story stone cottage with a chimney and what seemed to be a small pond out back.

“What-“

“Come with me,” he grinned.

She got out of the car and he was already around to her side to take hold of her hand. He walked them onto the drive.

“But wait, isn’t this private property?” she asked, tugging his hand.

“It is,” he agreed, “Mine.”

“Yours?” she asked.

“My Uncle Brandon died without any children, so he left it to me. My Dad controlled it until his death, but then I took over the management,” Robb explained. “Usually we have a tenant in, but she just left to move south.” She glanced at him and he smiled, “Don’t worry. I’m not suggesting we move in tomorrow. But… your little cottage in the countryside. Any chance it could look something like this?”

“It could look exactly like this,” she managed to get out.

“We could expand it,” he pulled her by the hand and took her around, “The stones are all local so it would be easy enough to make it look like it had always been that way.”

She shook her head, “No, it’s perfect just as it is.”

“It’s three bedrooms,” he explained, “Two and a half bathrooms. A nice size kitchen and it’s dated more than anything else. But we could fix it up slowly. The way we wanted.”

There were so many signs. There had been for so long now, but never more so than today. Signs that any future he wanted included her.

That maybe what he’d said when the door had opened was something that he’d meant and had been meaning for some time.

“I love you,” she told him, and he turned to look at her, “I’m in love with you.”

A surprised smile took over his face, “Well I’m in love with you.”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “I know.” She shook her head, “I don’t mean it like-I just feel it. I can feel it, can you?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he agreed, pulling her into his arms, “You show me every day.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and tilted her head up to look at him. She rested her chin on his chest and he kissed her lips. She opened her mouth and he deepened it and she stood on her tiptoes, leaning all her weight against him.

He broke the kiss and kissed her forehead, and she leaned her cheek against his strong chest.

“What should we name him?” he asked.

She smiled, “He’s your dog.”

“Try telling him that,” he teased and she giggled, burrowing further against him.

She’d never felt what being in his arms felt like. There was so much excitement every time she saw him, her stomach doing flip-flops, but more than that, deeper, there was a comfort. An overwhelming sense of safety, of contentment and assurance and now she knew why.

Because he loved her, as she loved him.

“I’ll start thinking,” she promised.

She felt his hand cupping the back of her head, stroking her hair and she closed her eyes, squeezing him tighter.

“So,” he asked, “Should we head back? I’m not sure I can wait to see Theon’s jaw drop.”

She giggled, “It’s your birthday, baby. Whatever you want.”

“Well if _that’s_ the case, why don’t I show you the master bedroom…”


	15. Chapter 15

For some reason, as Sansa walked through the party, she remembered the time in high school that her parents had gone away and Theon had told the entire school – and failed to tell Robb that he’d done so.

It was something in the spirit, perhaps, though it resembled it very little. For starters, everyone was in cocktail attire and in addition to most of their friends from high school and the city, and some of Arya’s, the parents were there too. It had been Robb’s idea, to open the guest list. Even on his birthday, he was thinking of others, and he wanted their Mom to reconnect with the people she’d pulled away from in the wake of their Dad’s death.

They’d gotten everything ready while Robb and Myrcella had been out. She’d admittedly been surprised that they’d returned without a puppy. She’d known that the plan was to go back and pick it up in the morning, but she’d half expected Robb not being able to resist. They hadn’t really had a chance to talk about how it had gone as she had been in Shireen’s room when Myrcella got back, and at that point _Project Greyjoy_ officially commenced.

The three of them had dressed and gotten ready together. She and Myrcella talked Shireen out of the dress that was all but sheer and instead into one that was midnight blue. It had a high neck and a low back, and allowed for a considerable, but not indecent amount, of side boob.

Side boob was, Sansa was ashamed to admit she knew, Theon’s kryptonite.

They’d pulled Shireen’s hair up into a sky-high ponytail and given her a cat-eye and at the end of it, Sansa wasn’t entirely sure that _she_ didn’t want to sleep with her.

Sansa had also let them in on her conversation with Jon yesterday, after they’d noticed the way he’d practically body checked Gendry so that he could sit next to her at dinner. They were very much _not_ neutral about it and had all but created _Team Jon_ signs to hold up every time her and Jon were in six feet of each other.

Which, to be fair, had been most last night and the better part of today. If this were a Regency novel, the word that would be used to describe Jon’s behavior since they’d arrived at Winterfell would be _attentive_.

When she needed a beer pong partner, there he was. On the trails that morning when her boot had come out of the skis, it had been him who waited, helping her pick out a stubborn piece of ice that had gotten lodged in the bindings. This afternoon as they’d set up, she hadn’t been able to carry anything heavier than balloons.

She’d spent more time with him this weekend than she had for the past year almost, and she hadn’t returned a single text of Dickon’s. Not that she would tell Jon that, of course.

It wasn’t that she was in the mood for destruction the way Shireen was, just that she was afraid that they’d stumble. That one of them would self-destruct, the way they always seemed to.

Even still she’d allowed Myrcella and Shireen to put voluminous, bedroom curls in her hair and paint her lips a coromandel lacquer. She’d dressed in a form fitting black dress and worn a simple black velvet ribbon as a choker.

Myrcella, on the other hand, already so assured in her relationship, did not need to dress the femme fatale. She was so beautiful though, in her silver cocktail dress, her hair pulled into an elegant chignon, that Robb’s heart had seemed to stop as she came down the stairs.

The three of them had parted ways as they’d gone downstairs. Shireen to her mission, Myrcella to make the rounds with Robb and be introduced to half the north, and she to make sure everyone was comfortable and having a nice time, the way her Mom would want her to.

Such was the party though, and the crowd amassed, that there was very little she needed to do to ensure that people were comfortable. They had made their use of the downstairs of her home, congregating in groups of twos and threes at tables and by the fireplaces and windows. There was dancing in the foyer, and two girls were squeezed together on arm chairs, with men sitting on either arm. 

“Sansa!” Robb exclaimed as she walked through, in search of a glass of champagne.

“Robby!” she grinned. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Are you feeling very celebrated?”

“Very,” he chuckled. “I lost Ella somewhere, I’m pretty sure she just got a job offer.”

Sansa laughed, “Of course she did.” She glanced around, “How’s Theon doing?”

Robb smirked, “Jon took him outside to revive him – and keep him away from Gendry.”

She grinned, “You mean Theon loudly saying _fuck me_ when Shireen came down the stairs didn’t sit well?”

“Not exactly,” he allowed. “And I don’t blame him. As someone with a beautiful younger sister – two, in fact – I pity him Shireen and Myrcella. It’s tough, you see, when you have a girl in your life that you love with your _whole fucking heart_ , and she’s too good for this world. It’s difficult to trust that someone could ever treat her the way she deserves. Even if her life means more to him than his own.”

Sansa blushed and looked up at him, “Robb…”

“I don’t know what changed your mind,” he admitted, “And I won’t deny I’m grateful for it. But… I can’t imagine how scared you are. And I’m here, Dovey. I’m always here.”

She jumped into his arms and he caught her like she weighed nothing. He squeezed her tightly and she squeezed him back.

“I love you something awful,” she admitted.

He held her for another minute and then set her down. With a few more words and laughs they parted ways and she continued through the party.

She said hellos to friends of her parents, catching them up on all that she had been up to, danced to a song with Tommen and then introduced him to Wynny Manderly and watched his eyes bug out of his head.

She headed towards the back glassed in room, where it would be slightly cooler.

“Sansa!” Myrcella grinned.

She was in conversation with a man in a black suit and before he even turned Sansa knew it was Jon.

For all his talk of hating them, there was no one who looked better in a suit than Jon Snow. Her mouth went dry and goosebumps rose on her arms as she watched his molten eyes take her in.

“Robb’s looking for you,” she told Myrcella.

“Shock of the year,” Jon joked, making her and Myrcella laugh. “Myrcella was just telling me how things went this afternoon.”

“Oooh I want to hear,” Sansa closed the distance so that she could huddle with them.

“He picked out the puppy I loved,” Myrcella all but squealed.

_Of course he did,_ Sansa thought.

“Of course he did,” Jon echoed.

She glanced at him and he at her and her body warmed all over before they turned back to Myrcella.

“So,” Jon prodded, “Did you tell him?”

Sansa looked at Myrcella who had grabbed Jon’s arm and her face was the picture of joy as she closed her eyes and nodded.

“Did he say it back?” Sansa asked, knowing even though she didn’t know, what they were talking about.

A single tear fell out of Myrcella’s eye as she opened them, and she took her hand.

“He _loves_ me,” Myrcella exulted. She threw her hands above her head and shimmied, “He LOVES me.”

“HE LOVES YOU,” Sansa and Jon told her.

And then she had launched herself at both of them, an arm around each of them. They held her tightly and when she wiggled, Sansa wiggled too. Even Jon did.

It was her who had said that Robb and Myrcella made it look so easy. And they did, really. The two of them floated together. And yet looking at Myrcella now, she wondered if she hadn’t been just a little bit unfair on them. Sure, it looked easy from the outside, but Robb and Myrcella had woken every day and made the conscious decision to give themselves wholly and without reservation to the other.

That took courage, that leap, even when it was clear to everyone else there was a safety net below.

Sansa glanced at Jon and her heart warmed at how happy he was. He and Myrcella adored each other and like her, he couldn’t have imagined someone better suited to Robb.

She held both of their hands and told them, “I always thought falling in love was the end of the story. But I’m so glad it’s happened now, when we’re both so young. Because it just gives us so much more time to be happy together.”

“Yeah,” Jon said, his voice thunder rolling in.

As though she’d realized what she’d said, or, knowing Myrcella, as though she knew that they’d _heard_ what she’d said, she grinned and stepped away.

“I’m going to head back in,” she told them.

They nodded at her and she smiled at them once before gliding back into the party. She and Jon watched her go and then turned back to one another.

“There’s dancing in the entryway,” Jon said.

“I know,” she smiled, “Like that New Year’s party we had a couple of years ago. Do you remember? People were dancing on the landing upstairs too.”

He chuckled, “Yeah, I remember. So, what do you say?”

“To what?” she asked.

He looked at her like she was obtuse, “To dancing. With me.”

“You hate dancing,” she reminded him.

“Do I?” he asked, holding out his hand.

Her heart was thrumming in her chest and his eyes had a smile in them as she placed a shaking hand in his. His larger warm hand engulfed her immediately, his thumb rubbing her palm as he lead them back into the party.

She knew they were passing by people, but she couldn’t really make out their faces as they walked through. In truth, Sansa almost felt like she was floating.

There were plenty of people dancing. It was an old, slow song. _Moon River._

She glanced at Jon, because now they were here, amidst everyone, she wanted to make sure that he was sure.

With his eyes on her he tugged her hand, pulling her closer and then wrapped an arm securely around her back. She placed her hand on the front of his shoulder, but then he pulled her closer, so her arm went behind his back and she gripped onto it from behind. He started moving them back and forth, in small circles.

He smelled like snow and home and him and when she felt his forehead bend touch hers, flowers bloomed within her. She moved even closer to him and his arm tightened around her. She placed her chin on his shoulder, closing her eyes.

She hadn’t realized how much she missed being held by him. Over the past year, so many people had hugged her, trying to make her feel better. She should have known that his were the only arms that could.

“It wasn’t until tonight that I realized happiness was a choice,” Jon said in her ear.

“Well,” she said, somehow unsurprised that his thoughts were in line with her own, “If that’s the case – only fools would be unhappy.”

His hand rubbed her back and he curled into her, “The gods know I’ve been a fool.”

She wanted to tell him that she had been a fool too. Perhaps even more than he. She lifted her head off his shoulder to do just that. She pulled away slightly to look at him. In her heels their eyes were exactly in line with one another.

“Jon I…” she started.

“SPEECH, SPEECH, SPEECH, SPEECH,” erupted from all corners of the room.

She and Jon blinked and looked around. Suddenly the foyer was full of people and when Sansa looked around she could see the crowds had all gathered in the each of the rooms for a better view.

Jon had drawn the short straw the night before. It had been between him, Theon, her and Myrcella, and Sansa wasn’t entirely sure it hadn’t been rigged when she’d seen Theon and Myrcella’s shared smile. They’d all agreed it was for the best. Theon’s would be _wildly_ inappropriate, and her and Myrcella weren’t sure they could get through it without crying.

Jon was the obvious choice. His brother, his best friend.

He looked at her once more and she smiled, “Go, I’ll see you after.”

Jon let go of her then and walked over to the steps where Theon, Gendry and Tommen had just pushed Robb. The two of them hugged, clapping each other on the back the way men always did. There were three steps and then a circular platform before the rest of the stairs, so they stood on that, where all the revelers could see them.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Jon said to quiet the crowd. “You lot know I hate talking to any of you, let alone all of you but because it’s Robb’s birthday –“ _WOOOOOOOOOOs_ were called out. Sansa stepped back a little so that she could look at the two of them, so handsome in their suits. Like remnants of a different age. Jon smirked, “That’s right, I’m going to make an exception. Because this, ladies and gentlemen, was the year Robb Stark became a man. Now, there are many ways that transformation happens, and Robb experienced the very worst of them, and the very best.” The crowd sobered and Sansa looked around for someone, anyone. Suddenly Arya was at her side and her hand slipped into hers. She knew what was coming, everyone did, and not a soul amongst them made a sound. Jon’s voice was gruff when he said, “You all know that Ned Stark passed away a little less than a year ago. Cat lost her husband. Rickon, Bran, Arya,” Jon listed them, his eyes on Arya and then traveling to her. He swallowed and so did she, “ _Sansa_. Robb. They lost their Dad. And the world… we lost a giant, didn’t we?” The crowd murmured their agreement and Arya’s hand was shaking in hers, so she squeezed it and covered it with her other. Jon cleared his throat, “You know I’ve got to be honest with you. I wasn’t sure they were going to make it through. How could they? But the Starks endure, always have, always will. And Robb,” Jon gripped Robb’s shoulder, “He not only became the leader of Stark Industries, but the leader of this incredible family. And man, I’ve just got to say as someone lucky enough to know him – Your Dad would be… so _fucking_ proud of you – Sorry for cursing, Cat!” he grimaced and nervous laughter broke out when her Mom called back _That’s alright, darling!_ Jon wrapped his arm around Robb’s shoulders, and her brother did the same to him. Drinks appeared and they all took them, “So first and foremost,” Jon said, holding up his glass, “Let’s raise a toast to Ned.” _To Ned!_ Chorused. _To Dad,_ she and Arya clinked their glasses. It was cathartic to be in a room full of people who knew her father, loved her family. Who wanted only the best things for all of them. But Jon wasn’t finished, he would end them on a high. “So, onto the _best_ of all methods.” _Owowowowowowowowow_ she, Arya, Theon, and Robb howled. Jon smirked, “That’s right, Miss Baratheon, get up here.” There were more catcalls, many of which Sansa herself was shouting. The crowd parted slightly for Myrcella and then _awwed_ as Robb leaned forward, holding her hand as she stepped up. Jon stepped away so that they could settle her in between them, and they all looked so young and beautiful and happy. Pink cheeks and wide smiles. She hoped the photographer they’d hired was earning his keep. Robb and Jon each wrapped their arms around Myrcella’s shoulders and Jon held up his drink, “For those of you who have been living under a rock, or in case you were one of the few people who didn’t personally receive a call from Myrcella to tell you that Robb Stark _was_ in fact her boyfriend and anything you may have heard to the contrary was a rumor perpetrated by, well, her…” she laughed along with the crowd, wondering how many others had received calls like that. “This, my friends, was the year Robb Stark fell in love.” The crowd _awwwwed_ again and Jon grinned down at a blushing Myrcella. His eyes crinkled though, and his smile faded, and Sansa was now gripping Arya’s hand. Her sister squeezed it right back. Jon swallowed and looked back at everyone, “They say that love shows us who we want to be, but I think” he said, and then his eyes were on her, “If we’re brave enough… love shows us who we really are,” her eyes had gone misty and even through it and across the distance she could see that his had too. She found a way to smile and he shook himself out of it and turned back to Robb and Myrcella, “So of course, this gorgeous woman beckoned all of Robb’s goodness, and strength, and above all else, loyalty.” They were beaming at him as Myrcella rested against Robb’s chest, the way she leaned all her weight against him, and his arm wrapped around her an illustration of Jon’s words. “You know, Robb’s loyalty… that’s something I know a bit about.” Jon turned back to the crowd, “She asked him once if his loyalty to me said more about me, or more about him. He told her he didn’t know, but I do. It says everything about him, and I promise,” Jon said, looking at her, and then at Robb, “That I will never, from this day forward, test it. So. Before I well and truly embarrass myself, please raise your glasses to the best friend, brother, and man I know. Robb Stark.”

They all raised their glasses and sipped. It was Myrcella who met her eyes. Her friend nodded at her subtly but meaningfully before smiling as she accepted Jon’s kiss to her cheek.

People crowded the three of them and others went back to enjoying the party, either finishing the conversations that had just been interrupted, or using it as an excuse to escape them. The music started playing again and there was Theon and Shireen.

They were slow dancing, the height difference between them would be almost comical, if there wasn’t identical, closed eyed smiles on both of their faces, more of a hug than anything else.

Everyone around her was growing up.

Sansa walked through the party and went back to the glassed-in room. It was nice and cool and she touched the window panes with her finger tips.

She knew it was him before he said anything and yet goosebumps appeared all over her body when he said, “Sansa.”

“I wanted to give you time,” she tried for lightness in her tone as she turned around, “To be admired by your adoring fans.”

Jon scratched his cheek, “It was nothing.”

“Don’t do that,” she chided. “It was the very opposite of nothing. Everything you said…”

“I meant,” he told her.

“I know,” she assured him. “But all those things you said about Dad reminded me of something he told me when I was younger. What he wanted for me. Someone brave, gentle, and strong.”

“As you deserve,” Jon agreed.

“He meant you,” she told him. Jon visibly started at that and shook his head, so she repeated, “He meant _you_.” Jon was still as stone as she walked towards him. She could feel it, the bravery she’d so long denied herself coursing through her now. She touched her hand to his cheek, and he pressed against her, closing his eyes. “I want to make him proud.”

His eyes opened and he took her wrist in his hand, “He is proud of you, Sansa, I know it.”

She shook her head, “No. I’ve been such a fool. I’d have to be, right? To push happiness away when I could just as easily pull it closer.”

“Someone told me once that if you weren’t the one, that I had to walk away,” he said and looked in her eyes, “But Sansa I am _standing here_. And this is where I’m going to be for the rest of my life… Unless you pull me closer.”

She half-laughed, half-sighed and then she did just that. His wrapped her in his arms and kissed her for the first time in far too long. She was drowning and flying all at once, and he just kept kissing her. His lips were awe-struck and possessive and grateful and greedy and hers were willing and needy.

“I love you,” she cry-laughed.

“I love you,” he grinned, kissing her again.

“You love me,” she smiled, kissing him again.

“Come on,” he tugged her hand, “I’m going to tell everyone.”

“Jon,” she laughed.

“No,” he shook his head, “I mean it. That’s where we went wrong last time. Keeping it to ourselves. But I’m yours, Sansa Stark, and you’re mine. And I want everyone to know it.”

“Okay,” she agreed, and tugged him closer, “But first, tell me again.”


	16. Chapter 16

Myrcella couldn’t help but smile as she walked into Robb’s building. It was Friday, and though it hadn’t been a particularly stressful week – in spite of the job interview she’d had – it being Friday meant that she’d get to spend the next forty-eight hours with Robb. And, certainly not more importantly – at least not if Robb asked – but still very excitingly, with Robb’s new puppy, whom they’d named Cornelius. Corny for short.

They’d considered naming him Theon, for the express purpose of referring to their friend Theon as _Human Theon_ until the end of time. It had been discussed at length when they’d brought him back to Winterfell on Sunday morning and introduced him to everyone, until Robb determined – to Theon’s chagrin – that he didn’t want to think about Theon that many times a day. They’d all gone back and forth as some nursed their hangovers and others just relished in cuddling on the couch. Her and Robb had been so outrageously happy that at one point Arya had watched as the puppy burrowed underneath the throw blanket they were sharing and told them _he’s the perfect dog for you, he’s just as corny as you two_.

Her and Robb couldn’t deny it, nor did it bother them in the slightest. There were many things that made them right for each other, but at the end of it all was simply how much they enjoyed being together. She’d have lunch with Shireen and Sansa tomorrow, to get all of the details from their first official dates with Jon and Theon, which were beginning in the next 1-2 hours, but otherwise she’d spend the whole weekend with Robb. They had no plans tonight by design – Gendry had invited them out with him and Arya but her and Robb had demurred, citing an inability to be hungover for the next 4-5 business days – and tomorrow night they were trying a new restaurant owned by a friend of hers that had been written up as the next big thing.

They’d seen each other most nights this week but it was different, having uninterrupted time together. She kept expecting to get _sick_ of him, but she never seemed to. And thankfully, he never seemed to get sick of her either.

“Well hello, Miss Myrcella,” Louis, the building’s kindest doorman greeted her.

“Hello Louis,” she smiled. “Is the prince in residence?”

He chuckled, “He just took the beast for a walk around the block.”

_The beast_ was the most ridiculous nickname for Robb’s puppy. Though he had bouts of energy and a few hilarious acts of naughtiness, he was incredibly docile and more of a loaf than even Ser Pounce. He’d brought so much joy to them since they’d gone to pick him up on Sunday morning, rousing even those of their friends with the worst hangovers.

“I see,” she nodded, as though he was fearsome indeed and said, “Well do you mind if I wait here with you, then?”

“I’d like nothing more, Miss Myrcella, but,” he told her, walking towards the desk, “Mr. Stark asked me to give you this.”

It was an unadorned gold key but he handed it to her like it was a crown jewel. She knew from when Shireen had lost her key to their apartment that buildings basically required a blood sample before handing them out, and that was to a resident. Robb must have offered his first born.

“I’ll guard it with my life,” she promised, “And I’ll bring it back down as soon as Robb gets back.”

“Oh,” Louis said, a twinkle in his eye, “That’s not one of ours.”

“Oh,” she said, looking down at the key and then back up him. He was smiling at her and she tried to chide but it came out as a laugh, “ _Lou-_ is.”

He gave her an innocent expression and said, “I just think it’s nice, that’s all.”

She blushed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and looked down at the key, “I’m sure it’s just a spare.”

“Oh yes,” he agreed obsequiously, “I’m sure you’re right, Miss Myrcella.”

She rolled her eyes and said pointedly, “Thank you _very_ much, Louis.”

Myrcella walked away to the sound of him chuckling and pressed the button for the elevator. A young guy stepped off of the arriving one and held the door for her.

“Thank you,” she said, her eyes still on the key as she stepped inside.

Oddly he stepped back into the elevator and pressed the button for floor 17 after she’d pressed the button for floor 18.

“I forgot something,” he explained, though she hadn’t asked. She hadn’t so much as glanced at him.

She smiled politely and shrugged, “Hate it when that happens.”

Myrcella pulled her phone out of her bag and typed out an answer to Sansa, telling her that _of course_ she could send more outfit options her way. She still remembered the morning of her first date with Robb, when Sansa had looked through option after option with her and Shireen.

And if it were possible, this first date meant more than hers and Robb’s. Maybe not now, what she and Robb were now, but back then he was just a guy she’d met that she couldn’t get out of her head. Jon and Sansa had so much history, and it was already guaranteed that it would be the last first date of their lives.

After everything that had happened, they deserved for it to to be perfect.

“I’m Colin,” he guy offered. 

“Myrcella,” she answered, as she waited for Sansa’s pictures to come through.

“Are you new to the building?” he asked.

“No I don’t live here,” she said, shoving her phone back in her bag when it became clear that the reception in the elevator wouldn’t allow them to load and that he wasn’t going to stop talking to her even if she _did_ look occupied.

“Oh it’s just… the key,” he motioned to where it rested in her hand.

“Oh, my boyfriend lives here, he just left this for me,” she explained, then added unnecessarily, “It’s just a spare.”

He looked at her his eyes narrowed in a grimace, “I somehow how doubt it.”

She blushed but thankfully the elevator stopped as they arrived at floor 17. The doors opened but he didn’t move.

“Colin?” she prodded, holding the door open with her hand.

“I didn’t forget anything,” he admitted. She scrunched her nose and retracted her hand. He blanched, “It’s not a lie, right? You really do have a boyfriend?”

She smiled, “Yeah, I really have a boyfriend.”

“Okay,” he gave her a relieved smile.

The elevator brought them quickly to the next floor and the doors opened. She gave him a little wave goodbye and stepped off.

“Would that have worked, if you didn’t?” he asked.

She turned around and he held the door and she thought about it, “Riding an extra 36 floors to speak to a girl? Maybe.”

He gestured to the key, “If um, that is just a spare, you should ditch him. I’m apartment 17D.”

She laughed, “You better hope I don’t tell _him_ that.”

She turned back around to the sound of him chuckling that petered out as the elevator doors closed. Myrcella brandished the key and unlocked the door and stepped inside, taking off her heels and then padding into the kitchen. She put her bag down on one of the seats at the island and then placed the key down on the counter.

She opened the fridge to pull out the glass bottle of water and smiled when she saw her favorite bottle of sparkling rose chilling inside. Robb always did his best to make her comfortable, but whenever she was going to spend a substantial amount of time here he went out of his way – picking up the lowfat yogurt she liked that he couldn’t stand, a new book he thought she’d like resting on the night table.

She poured herself a glass of water and padded into the living room, grabbing her phone out of her bag on her way in. The images from Sansa had finally come through, as had more from Shireen. It gave her butterflies, the idea that her two closest friends and Robb’s were setting out on their first dates. Her and Robb had been giddy the whole way home from Winterfell, and this week as they each got more information from their friends. Somehow they’d become the old married couple of their friend group, admiring the anticipation and excitement of their friends from a safe distance.

After sending her recommendations she sipped her water and returned a few emails and other texts as she waited for Robb to come back. It didn’t take very long and she heard the door unlocking within a matter of minutes.

“Ella?” Robb called as he opened the door.

“In here,” she called back, getting off the couch.

He walked into the room, already changed from work and wearing a pair of dark jeans and a pale blue t shirt. As though that wasn’t enough to make her go week in the knees, he was holding a sleeping puppy in his arms.

“He fell asleep in the elevator,” he told her.

Her heart melted and she walked over to him, petting Corny’s little head. He blinked his eyes opened and then fell asleep again with his head resting on her hand. She looked up at Robb and stood on her tiptoes so she could kiss him. He kissed her back, sending that familiar warmth through her body.

“I’m gonna go grab a beer, you want anything?” he asked her.

“Just that sleeping baby,” she told him.

He deposited him into her arms and she went back to the couch and sat down with him.

“Louis gave you the key?” Robb asked before he went to the kitchen.

She nodded, trailing her finger down Corny’s adorable, squishy little face, “Yeah I left it on the counter.”

He nodded and walked away and she looked down at Corny. His tongue had slipped out of his mouth the way it only did when he was seriously exhausted and she stroked his soft, warm puppy tummy. She was so focused on him that she didn’t notice Robb had walked back into the room.

“Why?” he asked.

“Why what?” she wondered, but it came out as a coo.

“Did you put it on the counter?” he clarified.

She looked up at him and explained, “I wasn’t sure where you kept your spares.”

They’d never had need of one before, so she didn’t think they’d spoken about where they went. Like her though, Robb was a bit of a neat freak. Everything had its proper place.

He scratched his cheek and said, “It’s not a spare though. I had it made for you.”

She looked at him and felt a smile overtake her face, “Oh. Louis and Colin were right.”

“Who is Colin?” Robb asked.

“Some guy I met in the elevator,” she explained.

“What floor does he live on?” Robb asked.

She smirked, “I’m not telling you.”

“Tell me,” he grinned, walking towards her.

“No,” she pursed her lips, trying not to smile.

“You know what I’m going to do,” Robb warned and she placed Corny on the couch telling him to save himself.

Robb walked over to her and knelt down, tickling her sides and the back of her knee.

“ _Stop it stop it stop it_ ,” she laughed.

“ _Tell me_ ,” he teased.

She looked at him instead though and asked, “You’re giving me a key?”

He looked into her eyes and his hands stopped tickling her knees and moved up her thighs, pulling them apart and her closer at the same time.

“Yeah, I’m giving you a key,” he told her. Then admitted, “I kept forgetting to give it to you.”

“Is it so I can let out the puppy?” she asked.

“No,” he smiled.

“Do you want a key to my place?” she wondered.

“Well, it might be nice…,” he reasoned.

She grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck, “I’ll have one cut tomorrow.”

He kissed her lips and then mused, “Or you could just stay here.”

“Robb,” she laughed, kissing him again.

“I know, I know,” he agreed. “I’ll put the key in the inside pocket of your bag. Sure you don’t want anything?”

She nodded and he kissed her again, rubbing her leg and getting up. She picked Corny back up and tucked her legs up underneath her, leaning back against the pillows as she pet him.

Robb came back with a beer and some chips and sat on the couch next to her, pulling her against him. She settled against his chest, tucking her head under his chin.

“Has Jon told you where he’s taking Sansa?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, “But I’m not telling you.”

She smiled and leaned back so she could look up at him, “But I’m advising on wardrobe.”

“Well, we all know she’s going to look beautiful so really, what does it matter?” he shrugged.

“So, you didn’t consult anyone on what to wear on _our_ first date?” she teased.

“No,” he smirked, then looked at her curiously, “Did you?”

“Of course, I did!” she laughed, “I’m pretty sure Shireen made a scrapbook of all the options.”

He shook his head at her, a smile on his face but said, “He’s told her he’s in love with her, that she’s the one. He basically professed it to the entire North. Does she really think he’s going to change his mind because of what she wears?”

“That’s not the point,” she rolled her eyes. He looked down at her and she explained, “For the rest of their lives, they are going to tell the story of their first official date. And she’s going to remember exactly what she ate, and exactly where they went, and exactly what she wore, and exactly how he looked at her.”

She burrowed into his chest, closing her eyes and his arm wrapped around her, holding her to him. They’d get up and order food or make something in a little while, but they were in no rush.

“Duck and lamb, but your favorite was the bread, and we went to Nan’s, and you wore a black dress and your hair in a ponytail,” he said after a while and she tilted her head back to look up at him. His eyes wandered over her face, “And I’m not sure how I was looking at you, I just know I couldn’t stop.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “That’s how I remember it.’

He lowered his lips to hers and she kissed him back. They kissed until the puppy woke up and then he started licking her face. Her and Robb both pressed kisses to him, and then she got off the couch and tried to teach him some tricks.

He had mastered sitting easily but every time she tried to show him lie down he just sniffed around her, freaking out that she had died.

Robb sat on the couch watching them and drinking his beer.

“Does Nan do take out?” she wondered.

“She will for us,” he agreed.

“Is that sacrilege?” she grimaced.

He shook his head, “No and now I’m craving it. I’d ask what you want but you know she doesn’t care.”

She laughed and Robb went into the other room to grab his phone, so she kept playing with the puppy. She let him tackle her backwards and then sprinted away as though he couldn’t believe what he’d done, running back and jumping on top of her, skidding to a stop on her chest.

She looked up and saw Robb smiling at them, “It’ll be ready in about twenty minutes. Do you guys want to come for the ride?”

“Oh, I think so, don’t we puppywuppy?” she agreed and let Robb help her off the floor.

Corny sat, his little head up, proud of what a good boy he was being as she put his leash on and then they took him into the elevator. She was holding Corny’s leash in one hand and Robb’s hand in the other when they exited the elevator, walking into the lobby.

Louis turned to look at them, a small smile on his face.

“It was _brand new_ ,” she gushed.

Louis chuckled, “Isn’t that something.”

“I think so,” she agreed, leaning her cheek against Robb’s arm.

The went out to Robb’s car and he drove them through the Friday evening traffic to Nan’s. Corny fell asleep instantly. Like her he loved being driven by Robb and she pet him absently and looked over at her boyfriend.

“Stop it,” he grinned.

“But I’m doing my impression of you from our first date,” she teased.

He chuckled, squeezing her thigh gently, keeping his eyes on the road.

“So where is Theon taking Shireen?” she asked casually.

“Not a chance, Baratheon,” he denied her. “You’ll get all the details tomorrow at lunch, I’m sure.”

“Oh fine,” she sighed then lifted Corny and kissed his head, “You’d tell me if you could talk, wouldn’t you?”

They were stopped at a red light and Myrcella looked up to find Robb watching her, a small smile on his face. She smiled shyly at him and to her surprise he didn’t return it. Before she could dwell on it though the light turned green and he focused back on the road.

She turned towards the window and watched as the city flashed by her.

“When is your lease up?” Robb asked.

“August, why?” she wondered.

He shook his head, eyes focused on the road, “Just making conversation.”


	17. Chapter 17

Sansa took a deep, steadying breath in the taxi, looking down at the most recent messages from her, Myrcella and Shireen’s groupchat.

_Shireen: YOU ALREADY KNOW JON LOVES YOU, THINK OF LITTLE OLD MEEEEEEEEEEE, THEON JUST LIKES MY SIDE BOOB_

_Myrcella: maybe he was trying to see your heart… through your side boob_

_Shireen: Oh shut up, Mrs. Stark_

_Myrcella: Robb doesn’t think it’s funny when you call me that_

_Shireen: Yeah, because he wants to call you that FOR REAL. You are in way too stable of a relationship, it is INSULTING TO US MERE MORTALS WHO ARE AFRAID WE ARE GOING TO DRIBBLE WINE DOWN OUR CHINS ON OUR DATES_

_Myrcella: You’re right. Let’s focus on you two. Take small sips._

_Myrcella: It’s Robb. I only have thirty seconds before Myrcella steals her phone back. Sansa: Shireen is right. Jon is IN LOVE WITH YOU. JON. SNOW. CONFESSED HIS LOVE TO YOU IN FRONT OF 200 PEOPLE LAST WEEK. Shireen: First of all I told you the Mrs Stark thing IN CONFIDENCE!!! Second of all, Theon admittedly does really love your side boob. But he’s obsessed with you. So just STOP IT THE TWO OF YOU BECAUSE YOU’RE DRIVING ME CRAZY._

She was laughing as the driver pulled up in front of the restaurant. After thanking and paying him she got out of the car and sent a quick: _Love you guys_ text to the group and put her phone in her bag. It started buzzing immediately and uncontrollably but she ignored it.

Because standing there waiting for her was Jon Snow. He was dressed in his usual black, a suit with a black sweater underneath. His hair was pulled off his face and she suddenly found it hard to walk.

It didn’t matter though, because he was crossing to her.

“ _Sansa_ ,” he breathed.

“Hi,” she blushed. “You look…”

“You too,” he blushed.

_Jon Snow confessed his love to you in front of 200 people._

“Why are we being so awkward?” she wondered.

He let out a surprised chuckle, “I don’t know. My hands are sweating.”

For some reason that made her feel better and she asked, “Can we just…” she trailed off though and stepped towards him and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Any awkwardness slipped away as his arms wrapped around her waist and shoulders and he leaned her back slightly, kissing her deeply. They had always been good at this part.

“You smell nice,” he told her, pressing a chaste kiss to her neck.

“So do you,” she smiled.

“Should we?” he asked and she nodded.

He turned to face the same way she was and then she felt his hand on the small of her back, guiding her into the restaurant. It was fairly obvious where to go, but she liked his hand there, for all the world to see. She could still remember when their touches were hidden.

_Don’t think about that._

It was a promise she’d made to him last Saturday night. They had stayed downstairs long after everyone else had gone to bed, stumbling over confessions of love and apologies and all the rest. She’d promised him that if he would stop ruminating on their past that she would too.

It was difficult, she couldn’t pretend that he was just some new guy. There was too much history to ignore between them. So maybe she couldn’t agree not to think about it, but she could agree not to let it bother her and ruin the present any longer.

“I’m sure I lost some points not picking you up,” Jon mused, “But I promise I had a very good reason for that.”

“Saving a cat from a tree?” she guessed.

He chuckled, opening the door for her, “No.”

Whatever the reason was she’d have to wait to find out because they approached the hostess and Jon gave him her name. She looked on her tablet and then nodded, grabbing two menus and then taking them towards their table.

She was a little surprised that this was where he’d chosen for their date. She’d seen a review in the Times somewhat recently, which in and of itself should have precluded Jon from wanting to go there. He didn’t go in for sceney places. She’d wanted to tell him that they could just go somewhere casual, not turn it into such a big thing, but it had been clear he wanted to take care of everything, and she liked the idea of him planning it out.

It was that, which mattered to her more than anything. That he’d wanted to plan, that he was taking initiative. He could have driven her under a smelly old bridge and pulled out peanut butter sandwiches as long as he’d planned it.

The restaurant was filled with young, attractive people and the vain part of her knew that she and Jon fit in well. He was so handsome, stunning really, and his body moved with such quiet purpose that she couldn’t help but notice a few of the tables turn to look at him when they passed.

The hostess stopped in front of table in the center of the room. She went to take off her coat but Jon turned to the young woman.

“Is there anywhere… more private?” he asked.

Her brow furrowed, “I’m sorry, we are all booked up. This is one of our best tables I assure you.”

Jon looked disappointed but Sansa smiled and assured her, “It’s lovely, thank you.”

She took the victory and placed their menus down and told them a server would be right with them. Sansa removed her coat and Jon pulled her chair out for her, settling her before he went to his own.

He looked somewhat agitated so she couldn’t help but ask, “Is everything alright?”

He smiled at her weakly and nodded, “I should have put a request in… for something more private. So we can talk.”

The restaurant was positively buzzing so she said, “I don’t think anyone is listening.” She looked at him and covered his hand in hers, “Seriously, what’s going on?”

He let out a deep breath and said, “I just don’t want to screw this up.”

_I probably lost some points for not picking you up._

She gripped his hand and then extended her other towards him, which he took to her relief.

“I’m not keeping score, Jon,” she assured him, “I would have had our first date be takeout on my couch if I thought you’d be this nervous about it. I know I was excited about tonight but that’s just because it’s _you_ , it’s _us_. I was worried about where you were taking me because I didn’t know what to _wear_ , not because I really cared where it was.”

He let out a shaky breath and said, “I love you.”

She was not used to hearing that from him yet and her whole body warmed, “I love you.”

“And for what it’s worth, you could have worn a paper bag and every guy’s eyes in here still would have followed you,” he told her.

“Well, I imagine the girls’ would have too if I’d shown up in a paper bag!” she teased and then narrowed her eyes, “Is… _that_ why you wanted a private table?”

“No,” he argued, then smiled sheepishly, “Well only a little.”

She giggled and rubbed his hand briefly before pulling them away. His eyes wandered over her in a way that made flames lick up her cheeks.

“What?” she asked.

He shook his head, “No it’s just for someone who everyone thinks is such an idiot, I do know some things.”

She didn’t bother to tell him that no one thought he was an idiot, instead she asked, “What do you mean?”

His eyes were molten as he said, “The reason I didn’t want to pick you up is because I knew if I did and you looked like _that_ , all of my taking it slow intentions would go right out the window.”

Taking it slow had been his idea. She had debated him thoroughly on it, but he’d held steady. It wasn’t that he didn’t have a point. Last time things between them had been so rushed. They’d slept together so quickly and sort of skipped over everything else. She understood it, really she did.

That being said she wanted him with every single part of herself and had found it mildly infuriating that he’d seemed so in control of himself.

“Well,” she said primly, picking up her menu, “Given what I _think_ of those intentions, I’ll leave it to you to imagine how I would have reacted.”

Jon grimaced and adjusted his position in the chair, picking up his own menu, “I deserved that.”

In spite of what she’d said, she suddenly found herself very grateful that they weren’t eating peanut butter sandwiches under a bridge or take out on his couch when she looked at the menu. It wasn’t large, which was a good thing, and she wanted every single thing on it.

“Everything looks so good,” she told him. He didn’t say anything but she peered over her menu and saw him smiling, “What?”

“Nothing,” he told her innocently, “Just waiting for it.”

She squinted at him and he squinted at her and then she looked back at the menu. There were too many things to choose from, the sole meuniere and the chicken piccata or the gnocchi with lem-she started smiling.

“There it is,” he said across from her.

She lowered her menu and looked at him, “Jon.”

“Sansa,” he returned formally.

“Did you find a lemon themed restaurant?” she wondered.

He chuckled, “Well I’m not sure it’s a _theme_ , I just read in the review that the owner is from Dorne and incorporates a lot of Dornish flavors. One of them being lemon. So.”

“So,” she agreed, knowing that her smile was positively dopey. “But now I don’t know what to get!”

He laughed and told her to choose her top two and that he’d order whichever of them that she didn’t. His foot found hers underneath the table and she couldn’t help but rub her ankle against his calf as they ordered their drinks.

When the server left them Jon laid his forearm on the table, his palm facing upward. She placed her hand in his.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asked her.

“I’d prefer it,” she noted.

She felt his index finger brush against her pulse point, and he said, “I… don’t know if we should be talking about what happened. Or if we shouldn’t. I can’t sit here and pretend that I don’t know you. I know your favorite color and your favorite food and your siblings’ names and where you went to school and all the other things you’d ask on a first date.”

“We can talk about it, if you want,” she agreed. “I’m sure at some point, we will. I’m sure we’ll even fight about it. Because you’re right, it’s there. And there’s so much that we already know about each other. But I… I don’t know. Maybe for tonight it’s enough that you love me, and I love you. We don’t have to focus on this being a _first_ date. Maybe it’s just a date. One of thousands –“

“Millions,” he interjected.

She smiled, “One of _millions_. And as such, we can talk about whatever we want. Like…”

“How many times Theon has panic dialed me and Robb today?” Jon suggested.

She fought the urge to squeal, “Really? He’s nervous?”

Jon nodded, “He is _terrified_. Is Shireen?”

Sansa made a non-committal wave of her hand, “She’s … totally fine.” He looked at her and she sighed, “Okay fine she is freaking out. She’s very concerned he’s only interested in her for side boob.”

“How?” Jon asked in horror, “He’s… crazy about her. Like… full on crazy.”

She smiled, “Because she didn’t know what he was like before. And he was very good at resisting her. And she hasn’t had the easiest time of it when it comes to men.”

“Well, if you’re going to apply logic I really don’t know what I can do about it,” he scoffed and she laughed. He looked at her, “If he was only interested in side boob – okay do you think this is the world record for the number of times that phrase was said in a conversation? – do you really think Robb would let him anywhere near her?”

Sansa couldn’t help but smile at that. Robb _loved_ Shireen and was fiercely protective of her. It was an extension of Myrcella’s protectiveness over her beloved cousin, of course, he’d love her for Myrcella’s sake if nothing else, but it was specific to Shireen too.

“No,” she admitted, “He wouldn’t. Funnily enough though, Myrcella’s been the only one that supported it from the start. Like she saw Theon’s intentions before any of us did. I suppose she didn’t know what he was like before either.”

“Yeah,” Jon said, though it sounded like he didn’t really agree. She raised an eyebrow and he shrugged, “That’s El, though. She treats love like it's absolution. As though it can change a man’s nature.”

“Isn’t it?” she wondered, thinking of how suddenly she had forgiven him and herself. “Doesn’t it?” she asked, thinking of how Theon hadn’t so much as looked at another girl since he’d met Shireen.

“Yeah,” he agreed, stroking her pulse point again, “She’s right on that count.”

Two hours later after the very delicious sole mueniere and very rich gnocchi with lemon sauce had been eaten and they’d each had a glass of wine, Jon escorted her out of the restaurant.

Any awkwardness between them had dissipated after they’d ordered their entrees and in spite of his quieter nature they’d found no shortage of things to discuss. It had been lovely, so wonderful she felt drunk in spite of not even finishing her glass of wine.

No, not drunk. She felt like she was floating, and as silly as it was, he seemed to be as well.

“Ooh it’s colder than I remembered,” she told him, “I could have sworn we were on the Dornish coast.”

He grinned at her under the streetlight and pulled her to him, and his hands seared straight through her wool coat, “Trying to get me to keep you warm?”

She leaned in and grazed his lips with hers, “Trying to get you to take me out of the cold.”

It was him who shivered then, and he pulled her even closer, “You aren’t playing fair.”

“Because I think your game is silly,” she reminded him. His eyes smiled into hers but then he raised his arm and a taxi pulled up, “What are you doing?”

“On a first date, you hail the lady a cab and put her inside of it and promise to call her in the morning,” he noted, as though reading from a manual. She sighed and started to walk by him and then was surprised when his hand slipped around her waist, opening the door to the taxi. His voice sent shivers down her spine as he said in her ear, “So I guess it’s a good thing this isn’t our first date. Just one of thousands.”

“Millions,” she corrected.

And then he opened the door and she slid into the taxi, leaving just enough room for him to sit beside her. She gave the driver her address and turned to look at Jon as the driver started the car.

His hand was resting on her thigh and she could feel her skin tingling even through her tights. She watched the city flashing by in Jon’s eyes as he looked into hers.

“Do you feel pressured?” she asked.

If waiting was important to him, she wasn’t going to push it. His comfort mattered as much as hers and she knew that this, it, them, was a big deal to him. He so desperately wanted to get it right, just as she did, and it wasn’t fair for her to just assume that because he was a guy he wanted to charge ahead.

Last time, she hadn’t asked the right questions. She hadn’t asked any questions. She had just assumed things were a certain way, and she didn’t want to make that mistake again.

“No,” he offered, and the sincerity was clear in his voice along with the deep emotion behind it. He leaned his forehead against hers and took her cheek with his other hand, “I feel absolved.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sooooo considered making their first date just total smooth sailing, because I love them and want them to be happy, but I also felt like it just wouldn't be? Hopefully there was enough fluffiness and love that it was still gratifying.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm sorry that I didn't give a warning that the last chapter was going to be the second to last. In truth I didn't totally know (though I promise I'm not cutting the story off when I had more story to tell) but as I was writing this chapter, it felt like a very lovely place to end it. 
> 
> I know a few of you were hoping for Theon/Shireen content, so though this ch is not following their date you WILL get some insight into it. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy. Thank you so much for reading this story! It started off as a total spiral I went down one morning and turned into such fun to write.

“Robb stop it,” she giggled, “Sto- _oooh oh.”_

“How can you expect me to let you go when you sound like that?” he asked in her ear, his fingers dancing over her.

She pressed back against him and felt just how badly he didn’t want her to leave and she turned around.

“We have to be quick, _really really_ quick,” she told him, “Like quicker than that time that you were embarrassed about how quick it was.”

Robb blushed even now but she didn’t have time to promise him that it was totally normal and instead pressed her lips to his. He forgot about his embarrassment quickly and picked her up, pulling her back into his bedroom.

Three minutes later, a fair bit of which had been spent freshening up, she and Corny were in the elevator. The restaurant she and the girls had planned to meet at was in between Robb’s neighborhood and hers and it wasn’t particularly cold out so she’d demurred when Robb had offered for her to take his car.

She waved to Robb’s weekend doorman, Cody, and then put Corny on the ground when they got outside. She guided him to the left and he started trotting along, every so often looking back at her as though to say _look at what a good job I’m doing_.

He was such a good boy already, and he loved Robb so much that it made her want to burst from happiness every time she saw them together. Robb had looked into the doggy day cares she’d found but ultimately insisted that _Corny is very professional_ and had brought him to work with him every day that week. So far it sounded like there had only been one incident, in which he’d had an accident during a particularly long meeting. Though the way Robb told it she could almost imagined the whole thing had been planned just to get him out of it.

As they neared the restaurant, Corny’s tail started drooping and she picked him up in her arms. He leaned his back against her chest, and sighed in contentment like the little prince he was.

She looked at her watch. It was 12:35, so she wasn’t _very_ late and she could blame it on Corny if need be.

She smiled at the hostess, “Hi we have a reservation… I think it’s under Sansa Stark.”

The girl looked at her computer and nodded, “Yes of course, you’re the first to arrive. I’m sorry though, dogs aren’t allowed in the main dining room, but there are lots of heaters out back, it’s really nice out there.”

Myrcella nodded, “That’s perfect, thanks.”

She was a little surprised to be the first to get here. Shireen could be a little bad about time but Sansa was always early. She followed the hostess out to the back and couldn’t help but smile.

It was infinitely more charming than the main dining room, with twinkly lights even in the middle of the day and large tables and couches and overstuffed chairs.

She pointed to a large table that was right in between three heaters and the hostess took her over there and settled her in with the menus.

“Would you like some water for him?” she asked.

“Oh that would be great,” Myrcella agreed, “Thank you so much.”

“He is _too_ adorable,” the hostess cooed, “Can I?”

“Of course, he’s very into being admired,” she laughed.

The hostess pet Corny and told him what a good boy he was and Corny’s tail wagged back and forth, every so often glancing at her as though to ask _did you hear what she said, Mom?_

Even though no one had heard it, she blushed at the word. _Mom_. She let out a nervous giggle and then covered her mouth, hoping no one around had heard it.

A bowl of water was dropped off for Corny and a pitcher of it for the table along with some glasses. She placed her phone on the table and focused on scratching Corny behind the ears.

A few minutes later she heard, “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” from behind her and then Sansa took a seat across from her. “I couldn’t find a taxi.”

Sansa’s lips were chapped and her cheeks were flushed but her eyes were bright. She looked radiant, truly, and almost uncomfortably happy.

“That’s alright,” Myrcella smiled, and then laughed as Corny tried to speed out of her lap, “But I think someone missed you.”

“Oh I missed _youuu_ ,” Sansa cooed, getting up from her chair and taking Corny from her and letting him lick her face. And then try to burrow into her top. “Oh, just like Jon then.”

Sansa seemed to realize what she said at the same time that Myrcella did and the pair of them looked at each other. Sansa went beet red and Myrcella couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“I didn’t say that,” Sansa said.

“Didn’t say what?” Myrcella asked.

Sansa grinned and sat down, kissing Corny’s head and stroking his belly.

“I am going to suppress the urge to ask for details until Shireen gets here, because she would _kill_ me. Like kill me _dead_ , so… it’s not out of indifference that I’m not asking,” she told Sansa.

Sansa smiled, “I get it.”

They each picked up their menus and Myrcella started perusing, choosing between the vegetable soup and the warm spinach salad, “So… Jon is a boob man then.”

“Myrcella!” Sansa guffawed.

“No?” Myrcella asked casually, setting her menu down, “I always pegged him as an ass man, myself.”

Sansa laughed and shook her head, “He’s a…”

Myrcella recognized that look. She’d seen it in the mirror every day since she’d first met Robb. It wasn’t that she’d ever really lacked confidence before, but what she felt knowing that Robb wanted her, that he found her irresistible, went beyond confidence. It was… contentment, pure and simple.

“ _You_ man,” Myrcella responded. Sansa looked at her and Myrcella smiled, “Pretty great, huh?”

“Yeah,” Sansa smiled, “It’s pretty great.”

Sansa’s grin widened and she waved to someone behind her and then Myrcella heard, “Sorry I’m late, I couldn’t find a taxi.”

Myrcella bit her lip as she looked at Sansa blushing and Shireen came and sat next to her. She turned to look at her cousin and there it was, that _same_ look. Along with some circles under her eyes suggesting very little sleep and freshly mussed hair.

Myrcella nodded, trying to hide her grin, “Yeah there seems to be a lot of trouble with that this afternoon.” Sansa’s mouth dropped open and Myrcella shrugged innocently, “Maybe there is a parade or something.”

“Oh, maybe,” Shireen agreed dreamily.

Myrcella turned to look at her cousin, just as a pink flush started spreading up her cheeks.

“Is one of you going to spill?” she asked them. “We planned this lunch specifically for _spilling_.”

She watched as Shireen and Sansa looked at one another, their cheeks turning pinker and pinker. Just when she was about to get _really_ impatient –

“If I spill I’m just going to be a puddle on the floor,” Shireen confessed.

“ME TOO!” Sansa agreed.

Myrcella squealed and just like that Corny shot out of Sansa’s arms and sprinted across the table into hers.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m just excited,” she promised him, stroking his little ears.

“If he’s not used to _that_ sound, maybe Theon should give Robb some pointers,” Shireen mused, picking up her menu.

Myrcella took the menu out of her hand and said, “Robb doesn’t need _any_ pointers, thank you very much.”

“And I’ll thank _you_ very much to leave it there,” Sansa noted.

“Okay if I _promise_ to mop you up off the floor will you please give me _something_?” she asked them both.

“Okay okay so,” Shireen started and she and Sansa turned to her excitedly.

The server came out at the exact wrong moment and Sansa gathered all of their menus and said, “Can you please just bring us a bottle of red wine and it can be your most expensive because we are too happy to care and lots and lots of bread? Thank you.”

The server left in bewilderment, though some excitement because she was sure the most expensive bottle of red was _very_ expensive. Even still, Sansa was right and she didn’t care, not when there were details to know.

“Okay so,” she said again to Shireen.

“So Theon comes to pick me up last night and I’m all bajiggity because it’s been so long since since I’ve been on a first date – I mean, do you remember, El, Harry didn’t even _take_ me on a first date – and it’s _him_ and I opened the door just like, in a state of PANIC,” she admitted with a smile, “Like I was still in my bathrobe panic.”

Myrcella’s heart sank, wondering if she should have gone home after work to get Shireen all ready for her date. Shireen had insisted she didn’t need to but hearing that she knew she shouldn’t have listened.

“And I opened the door and he just… _looked_ at me and was like ‘You look amazing’,” Shireen said and then laughed, “And I said ‘amazing? I’m in my bathrobe!’ and he then sort of had to like blink a few times and shake himself out of it like he hadn’t even _noticed_ ,” Shireen went on in spite of Sansa’s inhuman noise across the table, “And then he asked why and I told him that I was nervous. I don’t know guys it’s so different with him, I’m so different with him. I think with Harry I was always so worried about seeming needy that I just like… pretended a lot of things didn’t bother me when they did, you know?” Myrcella and Sansa both nodded but weren’t really able to say anything else. “And he was like, ‘Okay, let’s see what our options are.’”

At that, Sansa couldn’t take it anymore and shouted, “I’M DYING.”

Shireen laughed, “Just wait. So he goes into my room with me and I’m sort of shyly lifting different things up and he’s like ‘What’s the most comfortable?’ And I was like ‘What?’ because when has _that_ ever mattered on a date? And he sort of looked at me like… I don’t know what and said, ‘You’re the most beautiful girl in every room you’ve ever walked into, so… whichever is most comfortable is what you should wear. Because that’s what I want… for you to be comfortable. With me.’”

“Can we have a mop over here please?” Myrcella called to no one in particular, because she really was going to be a puddle on the floor and they hadn’t even gotten to Sansa.

“And so I chose…,” Shireen’s brow furrowed, “I don’t remember.”

“Where did he take you?” Myrcella asked.

“Oh this place…,” Shireen offered vaguely.

“What did you eat?” Sansa asked with a smile.

Shireen opened her mouth to answer and then her brow furrowed once again.

So Myrcella asked the only question that really mattered, “How did he look at you?”

Shireen looked down at her lap, a small smile on her face, “Like he couldn’t stop.”

Myrcella reached over and took Shireen in her arms, and Shireen hugged her back.

“I knew it would happen for you,” she told her.

“I know you did, even when I didn’t,” Shireen said, pulling back and looking at her. “And he is it, isn’t he? The _it_? Tell me he is.”

She thought about Theon bringing over soup and the trashy magazines Shireen loved when she’d gotten sick a few weeks prior, or the way whenever they were all out and passing other guys on the street, Theon always got on the side closest to them. She thought about knocking on Shireen’s door and finding the two of them laying on her bed, listening to records, Theon’s socks-clad feet hanging off and a warmth in the room so wonderful she couldn’t help but sit on the bed with them for a little while. She thought about Theon’s eyes as Shireen walked down the stairs at Winterfell, and how there was want but no more need than when she’d walked down earlier that day in her ski pants. She thought about Shireen telling him once that she’d only ever felt close to her father when he would take her sailing and Theon listening to her intently before telling her that he’d always felt the same. And she remembered Theon turning to her as Shireen said something to Sansa and looking at her as though to say _but who in their right mind wouldn’t love her?_

“Yeah, Shy,” Myrcella agreed, “He’s it.”

“So, Sansa Stark,” Shireen said, “Spill.”

They were still holding each other as they looked at Sansa who was shaking her head, “I love you guys so much. I don’t… think I would have had the courage if it weren’t for you two. And now…”

She reached out a hand as did Shireen and Sansa took them with hers.

“I don’t…,” Sansa started, “Can I tell you more tomorrow? I just…”

“Want it to be yours a little while longer?” Myrcella guessed.

“Yeah,” Sansa smiled. “It’s just that it’s taken us so long to get here…”

“We get it,” Shireen agreed, “We’re disappointed, but we get it. We’re _devastated,_ but we get it. We’re _dying of curiosity,_ but we get it.”

Myrcella laughed, clamping her free hand over Shireen’s mouth, and confirmed, “We get it… But we’re happy and we still love Jon, right?”

She knew the answer but felt it her duty as a girlfriend, and as the girlfriend of Sansa’s brother, to ask.

“More than ever,” Sansa promised.

The waiter had returned with their wine halfway through Shireen’s story and they finally all got around to sipping it. It certainly _tasted_ like the most expensive bottle and Myrcella sat back against her seat and sipped it leisurely.

“Oh,” she realized and they both turned to look at her, “Robb gave me a key.”

“HE WHAT?” Shireen asked.

Sansa’s brow furrowed, “Didn’t he do that like three weeks ago?”

Myrcella laughed, “I think he had it made three weeks ago but he kept forgetting to give it to me.”

“Way to bury the lead, El!” Shireen admonished.

“So how did he finally do it?” Sansa asked.

“He left it with his doorman,” Myrcella gushed. They both looked at her like she was crazy and she blushed, “Louis is an important part of our relationship.”

Sansa cackled and Shireen shook her head, not being able to compute.

“So there was no speech?” Shireen asked.

“No,” Myrcella smiled, “I guess it’s just not a big deal to him.”

“He’s never given a key to anyone else,” Sansa noted.

“That’s not what I mean,” Myrcella said and shook her head, trying to figure out how to phrase it, “I just think… it wouldn’t even register to him that I shouldn’t have a key, you know? He just… I’m it. For him. Just like he’s it for me, and there are going to be things – steps - that are a very big deal and there are going to be others that are just… not.” She paused, “I’m not explaining it right. It’s just… that wasn’t even the most romantic thing he did for me yesterday. You know?”

“No we _don’t_ know,” Shireen said, “What else did he do gods love that man?”

Myrcella laughed and was going to demure, just as Sansa had when Corny started going crazy in her lap. She held onto his little body and turned around.

“What are _you_ guys doing here?” Sansa asked before she could.

Theon, Jon, and Robb all stopped walking and stared at them with wide eyes. Shireen turned around and pointed at Theon accusingly, he pointed back.

Robb came over and took Corny out of her arms and let him smother his face in kisses, “We’re just here for lunch. We didn’t know you’d be here.”

They all sat there in silence and then Sansa said, “Wait Jon I _told_ you we were coming here.”

“Yeah!” Shireen agreed, “Theon you called me the uber that I took!”

“I thought you took a taxi,” Myrcella teased.

“We’re teasing the boys right now,” Shireen reminded her through gritted teeth.

“Right,” Myrcella laughed and looked up at Robb, “And you? I’m pretty sure I mentioned it…”

“Did you?” Robb asked with a small smile, “I guess I wasn’t listening. I do that when you talk a lot.”

Their friends chorused their disbelief at that one and then the hostess came out.

“Oh good, you found them,” she said and Myrcella, Shireen and Sansa all started laughing.

“Welllll,” Theon said, “Now that we’re all here, _totally accidentally_ , we may as well join you, right?”

That seemed like a logical decision to everyone and the boys all grabbed chairs and settled around the table.

“So, what have you girls been talking about?” Robb asked.

“Hmm,” Shireen pondered, “That is the _key_ question, isn’t it?”

Myrcella choked on her wine and some dribbled out on her chin.

“See?” Shireen asked, pointing at all of them, “It’s a legitimate concern.”

“And look what a big deal it is,” Robb said, picking up a napkin and handing it to her, “Here sweetheart.”

“Yeah, but see, Robb is weird,” Jon shook his head, “Wine on the chin is a total deal breaker for me,” he then turned and teased Sansa, “Sip carefully.”

Sansa covered her mouth as she went to swallow and then set the wine glass on the table, pushing it away from her dramatically.

The server came back out and the guys ordered another bottle of wine before they could tell them that it was so pricey and a bunch of appetizers and more bread.

“What’s up, buddy?” Robb asked Corny, “Want to go to Mommy?”

Myrcella felt four pairs of eyes on her and a blush rising on her cheeks, but she wasn’t going to make Robb feel embarrassed about something she herself had thought earlier.

“Come on puppy,” she said, pressing a kiss to Robb’s cheek as he leaned over and put Corny in her lap, “Thanks Daddy.”

Robb’s hand squeezed her thigh and she had to look anywhere other than him or she really would be a puddle on the floor.

Sansa had her head thrown back laughing at something Theon had said as Shireen tried to cover his mouth and Jon looked down at his lap trying not to laugh too. Robb kept his hand on her leg and she did look over at him then, with a smile.

“So I guess my little pep talk worked,” he said.

She laughed, “Not even a little bit, baby.” Then smiled at him, “But it didn’t matter anyway.”

He opened his mouth to say something to her but then she heard, “Myrcella?”

She turned to her left and saw Trystane standing there. And then if that wasn’t bad enough, Harry Hardyng came out back.

“Hi,” she said, wondering if there would be a way to extricate them without letting the boys know exactly who they were.

“ _Sansa_ ,” Harry said stupidly, “Looking gorgeous as always.”

“ _Harry,_ ” Shireen said, turning around and to his credit, Harry paled, “Being an idiot as always.”

Theon stood up and so Robb and Jon did too. Myrcella covered Corny’s eyes.

Theon walked around his chair, ignoring the way Shireen was tugging on his sweater. Robb followed and Jon did too.

“You’re… Harry,” Theon asked.

“The one and only,” Harry smiled, as though there weren’t a pack of wolves in front of them.

“And you are…” Robb gestured to Trystane.

He at least had the sense to look at her in hesitation before saying, “Trystane.”

There was silence then and Myrcella was about to suggest everyone just settle down, because she could feel it. Something coming.

“Thanks man,” Theon said, holding his hand out to Harry.

Robb offered Trystane his and said, “ _Seriously_ dude, thank you.”

Harry and Trystane shook them in confusion but shook their hands.

“What are you…thanking us for exactly?” Trystane asked.

“Oh I can field that one,” Jon said, “For being such _fucking_ morons that you let these three slip through your fingers. Enjoy your lunch boys.”

With that the three of them turned away and settled back into their seats. She, Shireen and Sansa were all speechless and the guys looked at them innocently.

Myrcella was about to commend them all for being so mature, but then Robb’s arm slipped over her shoulders and Jon’s around Sansa’s waist and Theon hooked his arm around Shireen’s neck and pulled her towards him, kissing her temple.

“What?” Robb asked innocently.

She couldn’t help but laugh, not even glancing at where Harry and Trystane had been standing to see if they’d left. If they hadn’t, that was their problem.

“Thanks,” she said to Shireen.

“For what?” Shireen asked with a smile, palming Theon’s face.

“For convincing me to go on that _terrible_ date,” she noted, “Because we’ll never have to go on a bad one again.”

Shireen and Sansa smiled but Jon shook his head, “That is _so much pressure_.”

“Seriously Myrcella,” Theon groaned, “Way to set me up to fail.”

“When I can get dressed by myself,” Shireen mused, “It’s over for you hoes.”

They all started laughing and when the second bottle of wine came they finally got Theon to tell them how many outfits he’d tried on for their date. Jon confided he’d tried on a few too, which lead to a round of teasing and _oh no do I wear this black sweater or this identical black sweater_. They got Robb to admit that giving the key to her through Louis _had_ been the plan all along, and that they’d rehearsed it and everything.

She leaned her cheek against Robb’s arm and listened to her friends tease each other and laugh, stopping every so often for a moment of softness and appreciation.

*

There was nothing about that lunch that made it very remarkable, but every so often as they each hit their different milestones - their first big fight and moving in together, the proposals and weddings and first and second babies, skinned knees and loose teeth, and graduations – they’d all stop to think about it.

And even if they couldn’t quite remember exactly what they’d eaten, or exactly what they wore, or exactly where it was, they remembered how they looked at one another.

Like they’d never have to stop.

**Author's Note:**

> so is it sooooo obvious that I miss being out and about and in restaurants and bars and at parties and on dates??


End file.
